


Untitled Soap Opera

by emwebb17



Category: Original Work
Genre: Advertising Executive, F/M, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Unrequited Love, brother issues, photographer, the one that got away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 52,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Ellison has just hit his stride: he's a well-respected advertising executive who works for one of the most prestigious marketing companies in the world.  He's got money, a great apartment in New York City, and a beautiful, intelligent woman he adores.  He's all set to propose to her and ask her to share his life with him, but he's just had the worst day of his life.  And that was before his drug addict brother and old college roommate showed up on his doorstep, dropping off a decade's worth of emotional baggage and buried memories.  And don't even get him started on the cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Soap Opera

“He’s tall,” Amanda conceded.  “I know you like them tall.”

“Tall?  _Tall_?” Rosalie gasped.  “That’s it?  You’re looking at that gorgeous man and the only thing you can say is that he’s _tall_?”

It was all Amanda could say because she was already covered in baby oil on a tropical beach in the string bikini she had been able to fit into in college during her size two days.  The man in question was walking across the sand toward her in an expensive, well made suit designed to be stylish and yet show off just exactly how fit his hot, tight body was.  He had a tan that was almost ethnically dark, which matched his short, dark hair and strong eyes.  As he crossed the white beach toward her, he took his jacket off—his broad shoulders filling out the white dress shirt quite nicely.  He stood inches from her, ready to ravish her senseless.  At this proximity she noticed that despite being dark his eyes were blue—and promising her more pleasure than her body could safely tolerate.  He spoke in a honeyed tenor that sent shivers all over her skin.

“Could you hang up my coat, please?”

Amanda blinked and was back in the busy, noisy studio.  The ad executive held his suit jacket out to her.  She blinked again.  What did the sex god want her to do?  Rosalie quickly reached forward and took the man’s coat.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Ellison.”

Michael gave the two assistants a vague smile.  They smiled back and shifted their weight.  He wondered why women wore such high heels if they were just going to be uncomfortable in them all day long.  Two inch heels were one thing, but who wore stilettos when you had to run around all day at the whim of a psychotic art director?

“Michael!”

Speaking of psychotic art directors…Michael walked around the large make-up table that had for some reason been placed in the middle of the room.  At least the hair station was over in a corner where the blow dryers didn’t make too much of a disturbance.  The coffee and donut table, however, was right next to the prop table and wardrobe racks, which he knew from experience was a bad idea.  Donut jelly was hard to get out of anything that wasn’t smooth and plastic.  The last table held expensive computer and camera equipment, and of course, was the most rickety, structurally unsound platform he’d ever seen in his life.  He could already tell the blue back drop in front of the table was completely wrong.  The models’ clothes were fuchsia and the colors were clashing terribly.  The two girls were hugging each other and looking innocently and sweetly at the camera.  It was a good shot.  If the clothes and backdrop didn’t suck so much.

Michael approached the lilting table and stopped before the slight disturbance in the air he made caused it to collapse completely.  The photographer was in front of the table, moving around the girls and finding weird “artistic” angles.  The set supervisor, whom Michael assumed was possibly the only sane person in the room other than himself, was huddled in his black chinchilla trench coat despite the room’s temperature getting close to ninety degrees.  He saw Michael’s approach and gave him a little roll of his eyes toward the panicking art director.  They smiled at each other and the young art director turned around with a dramatic gesture.  His half Mohawk-ponytail hairstyle was colored blue and orange today.  If he’d been simply wearing black pants and a white shirt, Michael might be more inclined to take him seriously, but the pants were vinyl and the shirt was covered in ruffles.

“Oooo~uuah!  Michael!  I can’t work like this!  I _can’t_ work like this!  I need pro-fess-shun-als.  These amateurs are killing me!”

“Really?” Michael asked dryly, nodding to Keane, the set supervisor, to start showing him the most recent frames on the computer.  “Who was it that picked out the backdrop and styled them?”

“Oh, good Liza!  You should have been here earlier!  There was this hideous pastel yellow backdrop.  And the stylist!  I had to fire her.  I’d never seen such horrible pairings of clothing.  The photographer knows nothing about color combination and light.  I had to do almost everything myself!”

He sighed dramatically and flopped into his director’s chair with a hand over his eyes.

“Water!” he screamed.

The two assistants by the door were scurrying to fulfill his request.  Michael did a double take.  Where they still holding his jacket?  What were they doing with it?  Why didn’t they just hang it up already?  He shook his head and turned back to Keane.  On the computer screen were some frames from the original set-up.  The models were in soft yellows and oranges in front of a pale yellow background.  There were some definite lighting issues, but it would certainly work better for the Sunshine brand perfume they were selling.  Michael looked back at the set.  How was fuchsia on robin’s egg blue supposed to sell the idea of sunshine?  Michael pointed to the one frame that might not be complete crap.

“Pull that up,” he commanded Keane.

“Michael,” Lionel snapped.  “What are you going to do about these people?”

Michael looked at the weary art director as he snatched a bottled water from the more busty of the two assistants.

“Lionel, working with you is punishment enough.  I’ll leave them alone.”

“A~ah!” Lionel keeled to the side and the assistants began to fan him as he hyperventilated.

Michael looked closely at the computer monitor.  “What the fuck is this?!” he yelled.

A few people took note of him.  The photographer wasn’t one of them.

“You!” he shouted, getting the photographer’s attention.  The man stopped snapping the shutter and pointed to himself.  “Yes, you!  Get over here.”

The pudgy photographer waddled over to him, removing his beret to pat dry his sweaty forehead.

“Can we stop hugging?” one of the model’s asked.

“Yes,” Michael waved a dismissive a hand.  The two girls stepped apart and gave each other annoyed looks.  Then they started to squabble about who had the most right to be disgusted by the other.  They must actually be quite good models if they could pull off those sweet looks they had been giving earlier because they were certainly anything but.  The photographer now stood beside him.

“What is it?  The backdrop?  I told him I didn’t like it, but he insisted.  What I started with was the yellow—”

“Yes, yes.  Great colors.  Though your lighting sucked.  But let me ask you: How the hell do you make an anorexic model look fat?!”

“What?!”

“Look at that,” Michael pointed the screen.  “It looks like she has twenty pounds hanging off her back.”

“It was a bad angle.  I told her to move.  The next one is better.”

“In the next one she looks like she has a black ass!  We’re trying to sell this shit to spoiled, skinny, rich, white girls.  How can I do this with a model that has an ass that would qualify her for a Sir Mix-a-Lot video?!”

“Well you tell me how I’m supposed to shoot a good photo with two bratty models and an art director whose head is buried up his own ass!”

“Hey!” Lionel protested.

Michael turned on Keane.  “Keane, what the hell?  I left you in charge because I thought you could handle it!  I trusted you with this shoot!  This whole day has been a waste of time and money!  And the campaign is due before the client for final approval in two days!  _Two_ _days_!  This jackass needs at _least_ one day to finish touchups and add in the damn product logo!”

“Michael!  Don’t you _dare_ put this on me!  Do you know what kind of budget we had to work with?!  Not to mention I’m doing you a Goddamn favor!  I’m supposed to be over at a different shoot.  You know.  The one I’m actually getting _paid_ for?  Because you promised me this would be over by 1:00!  It’s five fucking thirty!”

Michael put up a hand.  “You’re right, I’m sorry.  Thank you for your help.  Why don’t you go to your other job now and continue to be absolutely useless by letting a fucked up art director ruin the goddamn shoot!”

Keane put his hands in the air, an appalled look on his face.  He rolled his eyes up into his head.  “Omigod.  Michael Ellison.  You are dead to me.”

He turned in a huff, the bottom of his fur swirling around his ankles.  Michael turned back to Lionel.

“Do you know why you have a job in this industry?”

“Because I’m sleeping with the vice president of your company?”

Michael let out a short sigh that was nearing defeat.  He turned on the photographer.  “Honestly, this wouldn’t all be so bad if we had a half-decent photographer.  What the hell work have you done before?”

“Excuse me.  I am an excellent—”

“What else have you done?”

“Well.  An artist’s quality cannot be judged by quantity—”

“What else have you done?”

The man twisted his beret in his hands.  “This is technically my first shoot.”

“Oh, Michael, Michael!”

Michael turned and saw Keane hurrying toward him, one arm swinging wildly at the elbow as he did his best to run in four inch heeled boots.

“I forgot to tell you.  That quiche Maya made was fantastic.  Federico wanted to get the recipe from her.  So, can you ask her to bring it to dinner on Friday?”

“Of course.”

“And here’s her earring.  Federico found it behind the Wedgwood.”  He gave him a saucy smile.  “What were you two doing on our couch to make it fly all the way back there?”  He lightly hit Michael’s arm with the tips of his fingers.  “Anyway.  Good luck with this nightmare.  I’ve got five naked male models waiting for me to tell them what to do.”

He grinned and Michael tried to hold back his smile.  He was trying to be furious here.

“Oh, um.  Excuse me?”

They all turned.  One of the models was staring at them confusedly.

“Did one of you call me anorexic?”

“Oh, no,” Michael started.  “I was just—”

“’Cause I’m not,” she stated firmly.  “I’m bulimic.”

“Oh, honey,” Keane sighed.

“Dammit!” Michael cursed, looking at the ceiling.  How could the worst day on earth possibly get worse?  “Why do we have to work for fucking good Samaritans?!”  He looked at the model.  “Crystal—”

“It’s Christy Lynn.”

“Whatever.  Our client refuses to hire or work with models with eating disorders because he says it promotes unhealthy body images.”

She stared blankly.  “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re fired.”

“ _What_?!”

“I’ve gotta go,” Keane said and made a hasty retreat.

Michael grabbed Lionel out of the director’s chair and hauled him toward the wardrobe.  “Find me clothes that look like sunshine.  Sunshine.  Do you know what sunshine is?”

“Can anyone _really_ know what sunshine is?” he mused.

“Lionel.”  The man turned to look at him.  “You find me sunshine colored clothes or I will tear you a new asshole so that your boyfriend and your sugar daddy can fuck you at the same time.”

Lionel smiled.  “That’s supposed to be a deterrent?”

“Fine.  I’ll sew up the one you have now.”  He leaned in close to the man and put them nose to nose.  “Now, Lionel.  Find me some goddamn happy sunshine,” he muttered darkly.

Lionel licked his lips nervously.  “Whatever you say, Mr. Ellison.”

Michael let go of him and continued to ignore the fired model who had followed him across the room.  “You!” he yelled at the other one.  She looked like she was about to cry.  “Do you have an eating disorder?”

She looked away for a moment and when she looked back she wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “No.”

“Wonderful.  Go change your wardrobe.”

“This backdrop has to go!” he shouted to no one in particular.  “If we don’t have a _pretty_ yellow then get me a sky blue.  But muted!  I don’t want it bright!”

The room burst into activity.  The photographer was unhappily cleaning a lens.  Michael walked up to him.

“Look.  You’re all I’ve got.  Can you please take a picture of a skinny girl and make her look skinny?”

“Sure thing,” he said snippily.

“What?!” Michael roared, turning on the model that was still behind him.

She backed up for a second, looking frightened, but then she got over it.

“You can’t fire me!  Do you know who I am?”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t, and that’s the point.  Nobody knows who you are.  You’re a no name model.  Now, if you want some work, tomorrow morning go to the studio at 6th and 18th.  Give them my card,” he said, handing it to the girl, “and they’ll let you up to the shoot.  The client I’m working for tomorrow doesn’t care if the models are strung out druggie prostitutes as long as they look good on film.”

“Oh.  Okay!  Bye!”

She skipped off the set.  Michael was afraid to turn back around.  He forced himself to.  A pale sky blue backdrop was being put into place and the remaining model was in a flowing, airy dress of soft yellows.  He sighed in relief and allowed some of the tension to leave his body as the model stepped onto the set and her dress looked perfect against the backdrop.  But he couldn’t just have a girl in a yellow dress against a blue backdrop.  She needed something.  He marched over to the prop table and rubbed his eyes as he looked at the random and retarded pieces of crap he had to work with.

“Sunshine,” he muttered softly.  “Sunshine.”  He opened his eyes.  “Thank God,” he mumbled, kind of cursing Him even as he thanked Him.  He picked up the fake sunflower and took it over to the model.  He handed it to her and said, “Think sunshine.  I’m happy.  I’m in the fresh air.  The sun is shining on me.  And it smells so nice and pleasant!  Got it?”

“Yes!”  She smiled and she looked beautiful.  He felt a little better.  A pretty model could go a long way for making a bad picture look better than it was.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing his knuckles down her cheek.  “You’re as happy as you are because you’re his sunshine.”

She gazed at him, struck by his beautiful smile.

“Whose?” she asked breathily.

“You tell me.  Smile for him.”

She nodded.  “Okay.”

“All right, people!”  Michael turned to one of the lighting assistants and clapped his hands.  “Move that foil down and open an umbrella over on the other side.  I want it to look like the sun is coming from behind her.  Give her just a hint of a halo.  You,” he snapped at the photographer.  “Set that camera to an ISO of 400.  Use a wide-angle lens and a Wratten 80A filter.  Tighten up the depth of field and shoot at a slightly downward angle.”

“You want to do it yourself?” the photographer asked snottily and held the camera out to him.

Michael took a step forward to take the camera and the photographer pulled his baby back and headed for his equipment.

“Alright, alright.  80A, right?”

Michael walked over to the computer table and waited for the hair and make-up artists to add a few touch-ups to the model.  Lionel sheepishly approached him and stood uncertainly beside him.  He was probably wondering if Michael was going to kick him out.  Finally the set, the model, and the photographer were ready.  The photographer snapped a few frames, and then adjusted something on his camera.  The model shook herself, and then got back into her pose.  She glanced at Michael.  Then she shifted a little bit in her position and smiled.  The photographer took a shot.  Michael and Lionel looked at the frame on the computer.

“Holy Cher,” Lionel breathed.  “You’re a fucking magician, Michael Ellison.”

“Tell me about it.  I just made both of our careers reappear from the abyss.”

 

Michael didn’t feel any better after the shoot.  It had taken quite awhile before he was certain he had the shots he needed, and then he’d had to explain what needed to be fixed and added to each one individually, more than once, to the thickheaded photographer.  Then everyone from the set felt the need to ask him what to with the wardrobe, the props, the equipment, even the damn left over coffee.  He was an ad _executive_.  He’d put in his time being the little peon who had to do all the work for years.  Now he was just supposed to tell people what to do and have it waiting for him on his desk the next morning.  Why wasn’t it working out like that?

He left the building with Lionel sashaying beside him.  It was a warm night and the city streets were loud and busy with activity.  It vaguely resembled the scene they just left.  There was a rather high level of confusion and panic back in the studio, but that wasn’t his problem.  He’d gotten the photographer safely out with a clear understanding of his deadline.  That was all that was required of him.  He glanced at his watch.  He would just barely have enough time to run home before he needed to get to the restaurant.

“Michael, I tell you.  I am going to tell Kerr all about how great you are.  I know you just got your promotion, so it’ll be awhile before you get another, but there’s nothing wrong with letting the higher ups know they didn’t make a mistake, right?”

“Yes, thank you, Lionel.  And I can see what you were trying to do with that shoot, but…robin’s egg blue?  Really?”

Lionel shrugged.  “I guess it was on my mind.  It’s the color Kerr is wearing today.”  The man giggled and slapped Michael’s shoulder.

Michael made a face.  “What did I tell you about describing my bosses’ undergarments to me?”

“Don’t do it?”

“Good memory.”

“Oh, Michael, I’ve got to say.  You were fierce today.  I’ll admit it.  When you were bossing me around and being all manly and in control.  Even though I was like completely afraid of you…I kind of got a hard on.”

Michael laughed.  Lionel seemed a little surprised by his reaction.

“You know,” Michael said, “that’s actually not the first time a man has said that to me.”

“Hmm.  Intriguing.”  Lionel gave him a sly look as he hailed a cab on the busy city street.

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but there will be no details.”

“Spoilsport.  Oh.  Do you want to split a cab?”

“I’m actually heading in the opposite direction.  I need to go change before I meet my girlfriend for dinner.”

“What?” Lionel gasped.  “You’re not going straight to the office and slaving away all night?  What kind of a workaholic executive are you?  Making time for your girlfriend?  You make me sick!”

“Goodnight, Lionel.”

“Night, Michael.  I’ll be thinking of you tonight while Kerr is unstitching my ass.”

The flamboyant man laughed as he got into the cab and Michael shut the door firmly behind him.  The driver pulled back onto the street, cutting off two cars as he went and inciting a chorus of horns and irritated shouts.  Michael raised his hand and three cabs went whizzing by him.  How did Lionel always get one on his first try?  Finally a taxi nearly clipped his toes as it rolled up over the curb and then scraped its bumper on the way back down.  He wondered how pissed Maya would be if he called her from the hospital on their anniversary.

The drive home wasn’t peaceful.  And it wasn’t because of the frightening driving or the cacophonous symphony of city life.  He actually found both those things to be quite relaxing.  However, his cell phone and Blackberry buzzed non-stop.  First it was the photographer double checking what he’d been told and then it was his supervisor verifying the meeting with the client.  Then it was that irritating little weasel Tom trying to get the details of the shoot out of him so that he could stand up and take credit for it at the meeting.  Why was he still doing this crap?  He was in a serious relationship now and couldn’t sleep with the models anymore.  He’d already learned that working your way up the ladder didn’t do you any good.  He worked so many hours that despite having a large annual salary, the hourly breakdown was pretty pitiful.  So…why _was_ he still doing this?

The cab pulled to a stop at a red light.  He looked out the window at the bustling heart of the city.  A two story billboard was the focal point of all the other lights and signs around.  It was an ad campaign for a new waterproof mascara.  Something so silly, and yet the crying girl huddled under an umbrella as rain poured down around her (with perfectly beautiful eyes) was stunning.  It always caught his attention.  He always had to look at it, and it had been up for nearly nine months, which was an eternity for advertising in such a prime location.  It had stayed up because it had been so popular among the public and the sales for the mascara had skyrocketed.  It had been the first project he’d been allowed to manage on his own after getting his promotion.  He was proud of it.  He loved seeing his work in magazines and on TV.  He never got much credit outside the boardroom for it though.  That was reserved for the models and the photographers and of course the product itself.  But he liked how he could take those things and put them together to make something engaging and attention-worthy.  Was it shallow to be proud of an advertisement?  Was he deluding himself to view it as art?  Maybe he really was an artist deep inside but he’d managed to figure out how to actually make money off his passion.  He shook his head as the billboard passed out of his sight.  He was certain the world would laugh at the idea of an ad executive having a soul.

The traffic had been bad enough that Michael couldn’t wait for his change after paying the cab driver.  He still had to shower and change clothes and get across town to the restaurant in less than an hour.  Why had he chosen that stupid restaurant?  If they were really going to celebrate their anniversary by remembering their first date together they should have gone to a Chipotle’s.  He greeted his doorman and the man held the door open for him.  They both started as a figure lurched out of the shadows toward them.

“Michael.”

The figure grabbed his arm.  The doorman was not sure if he should try to shut the door or not, especially since Michael was partway in it.  He was digging in his pocket for something.

“Sir, should I call the police?”

“No,” Michael said, steadying the man who had fallen into him.  “I’ll take care of it.”

Michael helped his brother walk into the building and they quickly made their way to the elevators.  He glanced over his shoulder.  The doorman was watching them suspiciously.  He leaned over his brother.

“Pull it together,” he hissed in his ear.

His brother straightened, but kept a firm hold on Michael’s elbow.  He managed to stand without swaying until the elevator arrived and then he collapsed against the back wall for the ride up.  Michael stabbed the button for the tenth floor.  He really didn’t have time for this.  When they arrived on his floor he simply walked off, not concerned if his brother was following him or was even capable of it.  His apartment was at the far end of the hall past ten other apartments.  Hopefully no one would decide to come out.  He loved his brother, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be embarrassed by him.  He unlocked his door and stepped inside, tossing his keys onto the table immediately to the left of the door.  He turned back to see how far behind his brother was and was surprised to find him already stepping inside.  Michael shut the door and his brother fell against it, as if completely drained.  His skin was sallow and his hair was greasy and matted to his head.  His clothes were rumpled, but they must have been relatively clean; he hadn’t smelled him when he’d been helping him walk.  He was hugging himself tightly and shaking a little bit.

“Why are you here, Matt?” Michael demanded.  “I really don’t have time for this tonight.”

Matthew licked his lips and attempted an answer.  The words wouldn’t come out, and he took a step forward, pitching to the right.  Michael instinctively stepped forward to catch him.  He helped him regain his balance.

“Damn it, Matt.  I told you not to come here when you’re high.”

His brother let out a wheezing laugh.  “Oh, believe me, if that were an option, I would be.  I don’t have any money right now.”

Michael pushed his brother away and he fell back against the door with another raspy laugh.

“Oh, God,” he moaned.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked, and hated himself for caring.

“I have an erection.”

Michael shook his head slightly.  “Pardon?”

“It won’t go away.”

“What does that mean?”

Matthew looked at him like he was retarded.  “I have an erection and it won’t go away.  What’s not to get?”

Michael felt his eyes drop down.

“Don’t look!”

“Well what reaction did you expect out of me?!”

“Ugh.  Can I use your bathroom?”

“Ew.”  Michael closed his eyes and waved a hand.  “Sure.  It’s through there.”

Michael left his brother and headed for his bedroom.  Maya would be less angry with him for calling from a hospital rather than being late because of his brother.  He could hear Matthew stumbling around and just as he pulled his tie off he heard a clattering of glass and a crash.  Michael bolted for the bathroom.  Matthew had fallen to the floor, taking down the ceramic frog Maya had put out as decoration.  One hand was reaching for the toilet and he was starting to gag.  Michael swiftly grabbed a hold of his brother and helped him get over the toilet.  Fortunately Maya hadn’t been over in a couple days, so the seat was still up.  There wouldn’t have been time to lift it.

His brother started to vomit and Michael helped keep his face out of the water.  He noticed that it was mostly water coming up.  Or at least a liquid.  Probably alcohol of some kind.  He petted the back of his brother’s head gently.

“Are you not eating?” he whispered, mostly to himself.

He heaved about five or six times before he was able to stop and catch his breath.  He slumped on the toilet, his cheek resting on the white porcelain.  His breaths were uneven and ragged.  Michael was having a hard time breathing normally too; his chest was too tight.  He brushed the bangs back from Matthew’s forehead.  His skin was clammy and cold to the touch.  He pulled back one eyelid; the whites were completely bloodshot.

“Damn it,” Michael bit out through clenched teeth.  “This is withdrawal, Matt!”

His brother didn’t react.  He gave him a little shake.

“Withdrawal from what?  You don’t get withdrawal like this from marijuana.  What have you been doing?”

Matthew looked away from him.

“Matt!”

“Nothing, okay?  One of the guys’ girlfriends is a vet tech.  She got us some Special K.”

“Ketamine?  Wonderful.  But you know what?  Ketamine isn’t truly physically addictive.  What is this?”

Matthew’s head drooped and he tried to lean back toward the toilet.  Michael forced him to sit up.

“Look at me, damn it.”

Matthew’s strained blue eyes rolled up to meet Michael’s.  “I tried a little heroin, okay?  But it was only for a week.”

“Christ, Matt.  Don’t you know it takes less than that to get addicted to that shit?”

“Really?  I didn’t know.  But in all honesty, it could have been longer than a week.  I’m not sure.”  His head dropped again.  “I lose time sometimes.  But I—”  He struggled to get his head up again.  “I stopped.  I don’t want to do it.  I don’t like the high.  It’s not fun.  And coming down is even worse.  I haven’t done any in three days.  I haven’t done _anything_ in three days.”

Michael cupped his brother’s face and stroked his cheekbones with his thumbs.  He sighed sadly.  “Matt, why heroin?  Has it gotten that bad?”

His brother didn’t answer him.

“Damn it, Matt,” he said softly and pulled his brother to him.  He hugged him tightly.  “Matty.”

“Uh, Mike?”

Matthew put a hand to his shoulder and tried to push him away.  Michael held him closer.

“What is it?”

In answer his brother vomited again; the warm liquid spilled down his back.  Michael sighed.  Now he was going to be really late.

 

Donnie watched his friend click her nails on the centrifuge as she waited for it to stop spinning.  They were perfectly shaped and a dark red.  He couldn’t see them right now as they were covered by the nitrile gloves she wore, but he remembered seeing them at lunch.  They hadn’t been that way yesterday, which meant she must have gone out after work to have them done.  Which meant she had plans to do something special tonight.  Her lab coat covered her clothing, but he could tell she wearing jeans and a T-shirt.  She even planned on going home first before her special plans.  It must be something big.

He looked at her face.  She wasn’t what someone would call a “beauty,” but she was very pretty.  Her prettiness was also helped by being a little unconventional.  Her face was a little pointed and her hazel eyes were set wide apart under high arching brows.  She had a straight, long nose and full lips that were reddish without cosmetic help.  She might actually look better as a blonde, but she didn’t fuss much with her hair.  The dark brown locks were pulled back into a short, low ponytail.  She had a medium build (she definitely wasn’t petite) and he found her a little too tall for his tastes.  Despite everything else about her being perfect.  He would have gladly overlooked the height if he could be with her.  But she was dating some sort of marketing guy with Hollywood good looks.  He was no good for her.  They had nothing in common.  Donnie was certain the relationship would end before too long.  But not because he had any real aspirations of taking her for himself.  She had never shown any interest in him aside from friendship.  Of course, she had been dating the guy from almost the day she arrived in the city to begin her post-doctoral work two years ago.  But that didn’t matter either.  The guy hadn’t been around when they’d been doing their PhDs together.  There’d just been some mystery boyfriend from her undergraduate school who never came out to see her and she rarely talked about.  No wonder that relationship had ended.  Maybe he’d been like this current guy.  Maybe it would just take some time for her to realize that she needed someone who could keep her intellectually stimulated.

“Among other things,” he murmured to himself with a smile.  He shook himself.  He was not going to be the creepy stalker friend pining after the hot chick.  He opened the door to her lab and said hi to her.  Maya didn’t look up right away as she pulled her tubes out of the centrifuge.  Then she looked up to see who had spoken to her.  She smiled brightly.

“Hi, Donnie!”

Maya was happy to see Donnie’s boyish face.  She was having a rough day in the lab and for some reason seeing her thirty year old friend who looked about sixteen always made her day.  He had the typical flat facial features of most Asians, but they were finely put together.  And he had dimples.  She widened her smile, which she knew would make him smile bigger too.  There were those dimples.  Cute!

“So, how has today been going?” he asked.

Maya groaned and walked over to the biocabinet.  She sat down on her lab chair and put the tubes of cells in the sterile environment of the cabinet.

“They’re all dead,” she bemoaned.  “I need at least 200,000 cells per well and there’s only like a million in here and half of them are dead!  But I don’t have time to thaw more out.  I really need to get them in the plate so I can get out of here.”

“You want me to thaw some more out for you?”

“No, that’s okay.  Besides, if you help me in the lab at all that’s just one more name I’ve got to add to the authors’ list on the publication.”

Donnie laughed.  “You can just put me in the acknowledgements section.”

“Hey.  Now there’s an idea.”

Maya carefully pipetted out 100 microliters of cells and put them into the first well of her plate.  Donnie leaned against the nearby bench top and watched her work.  She discarded the tip and moved on to the next set of wells.

“So,” Donnie said, “you have some special plans for tonight?”

Before she could get a chance to answer, a loud, accented voice could be heard through the door.  Then the door opened and Maya’s PI walked into the lab with two technicians behind her.  She was yelling at them, again, for not doing something exactly the way she wanted it done.  Maya tried to shrink into the corner.  Maybe the woman wouldn’t notice her.  Donnie was already sliding down the refrigerators on his way to the door.  The lucky little bugger.  His PI wasn’t insane.

“See you later,” he mouthed to her before escaping into the hallway.

“Maya!  Maya!”

Maya turned to the woman.  “Yes, Ursula?”

“Did these two get the rat spleens to you like they were supposed to?”

“Uhhh…was this last week?”

“No!  Two weeks ago!”

“Yeah!  Yeah.  I got them.  I’m using the cells today.”

The frizzy-haired woman turned away from her and focused on the techs again.  She was ranting and it didn’t look like it was going to move into a more private setting, so Maya returned to work.  She winced every now and then as Ursula took the techs to task for the next ten minutes.  She was grateful she hadn’t come into the woman’s lab as a tech herself.  It would have been miserable.  As a post-doc she was treated a little better, but only marginally so.  Maya glanced at Mercedes.  She looked like she was about to snap.  She’d been there for almost a year already.  She’d lasted longer than Maya had predicted considering her proud and strong character.  But, it looked like it wouldn’t be too much longer before yet another tech quit and stormed out.  The lab had been through seven technicians in the two years she’d been there.  Maya hated to think it, but the techs getting chewed out was a good thing for her.  This would allow her to finish her set up and leave without being noticed by Ursula.  Now she wouldn’t have to explain that the experiment was only half complete.  She couldn’t stay and thaw more cells.  She had a very important dinner date tonight.

She managed to slip out of the lab undetected and glanced at the clock on the wall.  It was after 6:00.  Those poor techs had been there since 8:00.  It was ridiculous that Ursula felt they should work more than eight hours and yet only give them a salary as if they worked six.  The woman was miserable and as soon as she finished her paper and found a new job in a new lab she was going to file a complaint against her.  Not that it would do much good.  The one who wrote the grants got the money and they were the ones who got to decide what to do with it.  And the institute couldn’t afford to lose one of its bigger cash cows.

On her way out she ran into Donnie.  He was wearing a pair of khakis, but a ratty T-shirt.  It was warm enough outside as they walked to the subway that neither of them needed a jacket.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Maya asked, stepping around a fresh wad of gum on the sidewalk.

“Well, yeah.  Obviously.”

“No, I mean tonight.”

Donnie blinked at her.  “Are we doing something?”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, not together, but didn’t you say you had a family dinner tonight?”

“Oh shit!”  Donnie stopped walking and smacked his forehead.  Maya grabbed him by the elbow and got him walking again.  “Oh, God I can’t believe I forgot!”

“Neither can I.  You’ve complained about it all week.”

He gave her a look, and then had to quickly look back to where he was walking as they descended into one of the dank, smelly subway tunnels.  “You don’t understand.  You have a nice, normal family.  And they’re in Montana.  You don’t have to see them that often.  And when you do, it’s not the _entire_ extended family.”

“But you didn’t see your family for like, nine years while you were in college and getting your PhD.”

“I know, I know.  But that’s the problem.  I got out into the world.  And now, family dinners suck.  It’s really awkward, you know?  I mean, I stick out like a sore thumb.”

Maya glanced at him sympathetically as she added more money to her fare card at one of the giant machines.

“I never noticed before, you know?  I mean, I got that I looked different from everyone else in my family.  Like, really different.  But it didn’t occur to me that that meant anything because they were family.  And then I get to the real world, and there was nowhere for me to fit in.  I wasn’t accepted by the Asian culture because they are very ethnically cliquee and I have no idea where my parents got me from.  And I wasn’t really accepted into the white culture either.  No matter how much like them you are, white people are always aware when someone looks different.”

“Oh, don’t put that on white people.  Everyone is like that.  If you were in a room full of blacks, both them and you would be very aware of it.”

“Well, of course _I_ would be.  I was raised by white people.”

“Oh, shut-up!” Maya laughed.  She patted him on the shoulder as her train drew up to the station.  “Anyway, don’t get too down on yourself.  The science culture is very accepting.”

“Oh, great.  That’ll get me laid for sure.”

Maya laughed again.  “All you’ve got to do is find the girls who view scientists the way other girls see rock stars.”

“Do such girls exist?”

Maya stepped onto the train and winked at him as the doors slid shut.  Donnie heaved a wistful sigh as the train pulled away.  Maya shook her head.  Why was he being so melodramatic about seeing his family?  She would love to be able to see her family once a week.  Well, maybe once a month.

Maya forced her way down the subway car.  She wanted to sit (well, stand) toward the middle.  That made it harder to get off, but she liked to look at the skinny advertisement for Sketchers shoes at the top of the car.  She leaned against a pole and looked up at the dull print ad.  This one had some graffiti on it, but the little girl and boy jumping around wildly in stylish shoes still looked cute.  It was one of Michael’s ads.  Sort of.  He’d only been a junior executive when this one had come out.  He’d been allowed to help set-up the shoot, but he hadn’t been put in complete charge of it.  She’d never really noticed before how long advertisements stayed on the subway walls until she’d met Michael.  This one had been up for over a year and a half now.

At the next stop more people crowded on and squished her closer to the pole.  She didn’t mind.  It never occurred to her that someone might try to rob her or cop a feel.  After all, they wouldn’t get much of anything whichever one they went for.  The person on the other side of the pole was facing the opposite direction.  Peripherally she saw him look over his shoulder.

“Either you love pictures with poor composition and visually unappealing color combinations or you really need a new pair of shoes.”

Maya glanced at the man.  He was young.  Probably younger than her though he was trying to appear older.  From his profile she could see that his bone structure was delicate, which probably gave him a pretty face as opposed to a handsome one.  She couldn’t tell which it was for sure from her angle, though she could tell he was attractive.  His hair was completely covered by a skull cap.  An ugly yellow one that didn’t really match his green jacket.  Who was he to complain about colors?

“Well, there is a third option,” she said snootily.  “I could just want kids.”

“No,” he said, and turned a page in the magazine he was reading.

Maya huffed quietly in offense.  She wanted to deny it and tell him what an arrogant little prick he was, but he was right.  She didn’t want kids.  Possibly never.  She wondered if she and Michael should discuss that.  But was it too soon?

“Well, I don’t think the picture is bad,” she said, not sure why she was trying to defend Michael to some total stranger.  “I think the way the kids have been captured is cute.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with the subject,” the man said, making some motion with his head that she saw out of the corner of her eye.  “It’s the colors.  And the lighting.  That’s the photographer’s fault.  And the editor.”

“Well, maybe the person who made the advertisement was going for a look that is simply different from your own opinion.  Like, maybe it’s good.”

“Or maybe that person was too much of an amateur to tell his photographer to take a better picture.”

“Or maybe that person didn’t have complete control over the situation.”

“Or maybe that person is your boyfriend?”

Maya started her retort, but then stopped to look at the man.  He’d turned his head a little to smile at her.  He _was_ cute.  But in a pretty sort of way.  And he had greyish eyes.  It was kind of weird.  She’d never met a person with eyes that washed out before.  She smiled back at him before turning her nose up in the air to look back at the picture.

“Maybe,” she said.

“He needs more experience,” the stranger offered his unsolicited opinion.

Maya made a face.  “He did this a while ago.  He’s actually very talented.  Have you seen the billboard for the mascara in Times Square?”

The man didn’t reply immediately.  She turned to look at him and he was focusing on his magazine.  He was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Have you seen it?” she repeated.

He shook his head.  “No.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him.  What a liar.  If he’d been in the city for more than a day he’d seen the billboard.

“Well, you should take a look at it.  Then you’ll know how talented he is.”

“I’ll know how talented the photographer is.”

“But, he’s the one who designed it!”

“Yes, but, a bad photographer can destroy a good idea.  And a good photographer can turn a mediocre one into a work of art.”

“May I inquire as to your profession?” she asked dryly, sure she already knew the answer.

“My profession?” he asked.  “You mean the thing that provides me with income?  I’m a bartender.”

“Oh.  So you’re an amateur photographer?  I guess your professional opinion doesn’t really mean much then, huh?”

“Just because I’m not getting paid for being a photographer doesn’t mean I don’t know when something is or is not beautiful.”

She looked at him and he turned his head to look at her.  His eyes flicked over her face for a moment, and then he said, “You’re nothing special, really.  But I could make the world fall in love with you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  Was that a compliment or an insult?  The train stopped and he gave her a perfunctory “bye” before squeezing his way off the crowded car.  She shook her head.  That’s why she shouldn’t talk to strangers on the subway.  Bunch of weirdoes.

Not that not being a stranger didn’t make a person any less of a weirdo.  Maya stood in the open door of her apartment.  Her roommate was sitting in front of the TV on her chest, with her legs arched up over her back and her feet resting on her shoulders.

“Hi, Drew,” Maya said and headed into the kitchen.  She knew she was going to dinner in less than two hours, but she was hungry.  A little snack beforehand wouldn’t hurt.  She could definitely eat when she needed to.  Drew unfolded herself as Maya went digging around in the pantry.

“Hey, roomie!  How was your day?”

Maya made a disgusted noise and came out of the pantry with a granola snack bar.  “Horrible.  God I hate my boss.”

“So quit.”

That was Drew’s answer to everything.  If it was too hard or stopped being fun, don’t do it.  Maya opened her snack with relish.  Her stomach gurgled in anticipation.

“So was how your day?” she asked Drew.  This would get her talking long enough that she could eat the entire bar without having to worry about responding any time soon.

“Oh, it was great!  I had my acting class today and it went really, _really_ well.  Like, everyone in the class, even the teacher, said I played the coma scene really good.”

Drew followed her into her bedroom.  And Maya knew she wouldn’t leave until she’d finished telling her story.  So, she just started to change in front of her.  They’d been friends since middle school anyway.  There wasn’t much about each other’s bodies they hadn’t seen or didn’t know about.

“Well, everyone except that horribly snotty girl who had a small part on Guiding Light like three years ago so she thinks she’s the shit.  But, whatever.  If she was so great they would have hired her on permanently rather than firing her fat ass.”

Maya was having trouble getting her jeans off with one hand, so she shoved the rest of the granola bar into her mouth and slid the jeans down.  Drew flopped onto her bed.

“Stupid bitch.  Oh!  That’s right!  Our coach told us that there’s a whole slew of parts coming up!  I have no idea what a slew is, but it sounds like a lot.  Well, most of them are for _Passions_ , which is okay.  But it’s not one of the classic shows, you know?  But there are rolls for both _Days of Our Lives_ and _All My Children_!  Omigod!  I would die if I could have a scene with Susan Lucci!”

Maya pulled her shirt off.  “That’s great, Drew.”

“Oh.  My.  God.”

Maya stopped with the shirt still on her arms.  She looked at Drew and then at herself.  “What?”

Drew stood up and examined her closely.  “A black push-up bra,” she said, snapping the strap.  “Black lacey panties with a little bow.”  She snapped the low waistband of the panties.  “What’s with the slutty underwear?”

“It’s not slutty!”  Maya laughed with a huff and threw her shirt onto the bed.

“Well, someone’s obviously planning on _someone_ seeing them in their underwear tonight.”

“Don’t try to make it sound so dirty,” Maya said pulling her new dress out of the closet.  “Michael sees me in my underwear a lot.”

“Mm-hmm.  But tonight isn’t just about getting together and having sex.  With this kind of underwear you either want him to _make love_ to you…or fuck you senseless.”

“Shh!”  Maya blushed.  “I hate it when you make it sound so—”

“Hot?”

“Vulgar.”

“Hmph.  Ooo.  That’s a pretty dress.  I like the square top.  It actually forces the boobs out more.  It’s a little longer than I would like it, but at least it’s above the knees.”

“It’s well above the knees!” Maya grumbled slipping into the dress.  Drew helped her zip up the side zipper.

“Well, according to nuns it might be.”

“Shut-up.”  She smoothed the dress down and looked at herself in the mirror.  The black fabric made her look a little pale, but it did make her figure look amazing.  And Drew was right.  The square cut of the dress really displayed her cleavage.  She squirmed uncomfortably and pulled up on it a little.  Drew yanked it back down.

“Okay, we need some fire engine red lipstick and some pretty jewelry.  But no necklace.  The focus should be those awesome titties of yours.”

“Drew!”

“Come with me.”  Drew started to pull her toward the bathroom they shared.  “So, what’s the occasion?”

“I’m having dinner with Michael.”

“Well, duh.  What’s the reason?  It must be a fancy restaurant you’re going to.  And you want him to really enjoy the sex afterwards.  So, why?”

“Can’t two people just want to go out and have a nice time together?”

“Yes, they can.  And Michael?  He’s totally spontaneous.  But you?  No.  What’s the reason?”

Maya frowned as Drew pushed her down onto the toilet lid.  She wasn’t that bad.  Drew started to dig around in her make-up bag.

“It’s our anniversary,” Maya admitted.

“Oh, wowsers,” Drew said, pouring toner onto a cotton ball.  Maya braced herself before the liquid began to sting her face.  It still hurt.  “One year already?  That’s crazy.  Or is this like one of those stupid nine month anniversary things?”

Maya rolled her eyes.  “Two years, Drew.”

“Oh, no.”  Drew looked horrified.  “Two years?  And like, you started banging him the day you met, which was like the day after you moved up here.  Which means…”

“I did _not_ start ‘banging’ him the day I—”

Drew gasped and put her hands to her cheeks.  “And you moved here six months after I got here from LA.  Omigod!  I’ve been auditioning for two and a half years?”  Drew plopped down onto the dirty clothes hamper and looked lost and broken.  “Should I just give up? Am I a bad actress?  Am I not pretty enough?”

“Drew,” Maya said, not concerned by her friend’s breakdown.  They happened weekly after all.  “You are gorgeous.  Your face is heart-shaped and cute, but with a little eyeliner and saucy lipstick you can pull off evil vixen or innocent sex kitten.  You look good in your underwear, and you know it, so you’re all ready to go for sex scenes.  All casting directors love natural blondes.  And you are a terrific actress.  I’ve seen you perform.  I would love to watch you on a soap opera.  And I’m not saying that as a friend.  Most soap opera actresses annoy me.  But you, I could deal with listening to you complain about Antonio’s love affair.  The only thing you have against you is that you’re a little short.  But considering how short some of the male actors are, that could work to your advantage.  Now there.  Do you feel better?”

Drew sniffed.  “A little.”

“Come on, Drew.  You know they don’t change the casts often on those shows.  You just need to make sure you make yourself known so that when they’re ready to introduce a brand new character, they’ll know you’re perfect for the part.”

“I guess.  But—”

“No more stroking your ego!  It’s my turn!  Make me look beautiful.  I want Michael to look at me and never want to look away.”

“Oh, oh—oh, my.”  Drew giggled.  “You are so in love with him.”

Maya bent forward and covered her face with her hands.  “I really, really am.  He makes me so happy.  I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Drew bounced up and down on the clothes hamper and rapidly clapped her hands.  “Omigod!  You should propose to him!”

Maya sat up and threw the toner soaked cotton ball that had been left on her lap at her friend.

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not?  Michael is totally non-traditional.  There’s something about him that just says there’s nothing he would say no to trying at least once.”

“Yeah,” Maya agreed.  “That is one of the bad things about him.”

“Bad things?  I view that as a positive.  But if that’s the worst thing you can come up with, he must be pretty damn good.”

“He’s more than pretty damn good.  He’s perfect.”

“I know!  It is so unfair!  He’s gorgeous, rich, has a good personality, is rich, funny, rich, a-fucking-mazing in bed (from what I hear), rich, sweet.  Did I mention that he’s gorgeous and rich?”

“And good in bed.”

“Right.”

“He’s also generous and kind and thoughtful.  He’s always doing things for me and taking care of everyone.”

“Right.  That’s just icing, babe.  Rich and good-looking.  Do you need more?  Don’t be greedy.”

Maya laughed and rolled her eyes.  “Drew.  If that’s what you look for in a man—”

“It’s _all_ I look for in a man.”

“Hmm.  Well, he’s not _that_ rich, you know.”

“Rich enough.  You better tie him down while you’ve got the chance.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.  And there’s a lot I would do and sacrifice for him.  But he strikes me as the wanting kids type.”

Drew made a face.  “Yeah, he does.  Well, you’re just gonna have to accept the fact that you’re going to have to squeeze at least one out.”

“But, I don’t want kids.  I don’t think.  Certainly not now.”

“Maybe you can adopt or something.  And like adopt one already potty-trained.”

“There’s an idea.”  Maya shook herself.  “But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let me just get through this dinner—”

“And all the dirty, nasty, kinky sex that follows.”

Drew grinned at her and Maya took in a slightly annoyed breath.

“And once tonight is out of the way, we can discuss our options.  Like, maybe we could move in together.”

“No!”

Maya started at the vehemence in Drew’s voice.

“You can’t move in together!”

“Why not?”

“I need you to help pay the rent!”

Maya laughed.  “Drew, you have a lot of friends.”

“None I want to live with.”

“Well, too bad.  But hey, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.  He’s an ad exec.  He’s so wrapped up in his job he doesn’t have time for me, right?  He’s just playing the field.  Moving in together isn’t currently on his agenda.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Drew grumbled unhappily.

“Come on, come on!  I need help.  Make me look nice and sexy tonight and I promise not to move out for at least six—”

“Months?” Drew asked hopefully.

“Weeks,” Maya compromised.  She had been going to say “days.”  If Michael asked her to run away with him tonight she would be gone.

After much fussing and arguing and bullying and pushing, Maya was finally dressed for the evening, wearing more make-up than she felt comfortable in, but less than Drew wanted, and made her way across town.  It was her first time going to a five star restaurant.  Michael had taken her to three and four star places before, but tonight must be a really special occasion.  Well, of course.  It was their two year anniversary.  That’s all. Nothing else was going to happen.  Maya put a hand to her chest to try to get her heart to slow down.  Drew had put too many ideas into her head.  And the biggest possibility of all she was refusing to acknowledge.  It was definitely out of the question so she shouldn’t even think about it.

Maya approached the host stand, aware that several men in the room were looking at her.  She pulled her wrap a little closer around her.  God, she hated this kind of attention.  This was the worst way to attract a man.  It just needed to happen naturally, like it had with her and Michael.  She’d tripped on the subway, fallen to her knees, and face-planted right into his lap.  It was a very easy way to break the ice.

“Hello,” she said to the Maitre’D and tried smiling in a non-I-don’t-fit-in-here kind of way.

“Name, madam?”

“The reservation should be under Ellison.”

“Ah, yes.  Michael Ellison at 8:00, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You must be Ms. Krakowski.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Mr. Ellison called us not too long ago and requested that you be seated and served a bottle of Te Mata ‘Coleraine’ Cabernet Sauvignon, 1998, and that you be informed he is grievously sorry, but he will be about twenty minutes late.  If you will follow me, madam.”

“Um.  Sure.”  She started to follow the tux clad Maitre’D and looked around the restaurant.  At least she looked dressed as well as the other patrons.  “So, he’s grievously sorry, hmm?  That’s pretty sorry for only being twenty minutes late.”

“Well, perhaps I may have added an adjective or two,” the Maitre’D smiled at her.  “But to keep a lady waiting, that is a grievous infraction indeed.”

“I guess he’s lucky I like him so much, then.”

The Maitre’D removed her wrap and helped her into her seat.  “I would say he is the lucky one.”

She smiled and looked away, blushing.  This was ridiculous.

“Your wine will be out shortly.  Would you like an appetizer?”

Would it be unladylike to eat a whole appetizer by herself?  And would she lose her appetite?  She glanced at her watch.  It was five to eight and Michael said he was going to be twenty minutes late, which meant she might have close to half an hour to wait.  Her stomach grumbled.

“What would you recommend?” she asked.

“The bruschetta is unparalleled.”

“Then I must try it.”

“Madam.”

He bowed and backed away.  Did people still use that kind of formality nowadays?  It was kind of silly.  And a little pretentious.  This whole fancy restaurant thing really wasn’t them.  If they were going to celebrate their anniversary, they should have just gone to a Chipotle’s.  Not too long after the wine arrived (and it was good wine) her cell phone rang.  She dug around in her little purse hurriedly trying to find the stupid thing.  Why was it easier to find it in a big bag than this teeny little purse?  She answered quickly before Michael got her voicemail.

“Hello!”

“’Ello, dahling!  It ees Federico!”

“Oh, hi, Federico.”

“Why you say it like dat?  ‘Oh.  Federico.’  Ees it not wonderful to ‘ear my voice?”

Maya laughed.  “It is, it is.  I’m sorry.  I’m just waiting for Michael.”

“Oh.  ‘Oney.  Le’ me tell you.  My precious saw him today.  Apparently, dere was a bad shoot.”

“Oh, no.  Not again.”

“Yes, yes.  Precious was most dees-pleased with him.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“Oh, yes.  Precious told Michael, but I am sure he forgets.  I must ‘ave your quiche recipe.”

“Oh, sure.  No problem.  It’s my mother’s.  I’d love to share it with you.”

“Oh, dank you, ’oney.  Be good to your man, tonight, okay?  When men feel bad, dey just want to be baby’d.”

Maya laughed.  “Thank you, Federico.  I appreciate the advice.”

“No problema.  Bye-bye.”

Maya could hear a couple air kisses over the line and then he hung up.  Maya shook her head with a small smile.  Meeting Michael had changed her life in more ways than one.  Her range of acquaintances was quite impressive.  As was the bruschetta.  The Maitre’D hadn’t lied.  And 35 minutes later there were only a couple cubes of tomato left to prove it had ever been on the fancy plate.  Maya was starting on her third glass of wine.  It was a little embarrassing to be in a fancy restaurant all by herself.  She wondered how much longer it would be before she started to get paranoid and think this was Michael’s way of dumping her.  Oh, no.  That was it.  She’d just started.

“Maya.”

Maya looked up.  Michael was walking up to the table.  She froze for a moment as she looked at him, her lips parting and her breath catching slightly at his appearance.  He always looked so good in a suit and the deep blue of his tie brought out the dark blue of his eyes.  He was so handsome; he could have any woman he wanted.  Why did he want _her_?  She forced those thoughts away and stood up to greet him.  He walked directly up to her and hugged her.  Tightly.  She hugged him back, glad that he was there.  Just seeing him always made her feel better.

Michael wrapped his arms around Maya.  He loved the way she felt.  She wasn’t tiny; she wasn’t someone who he needed to be careful with.  She was someone who could accept the full brunt of his love.  And she always did it with a smile.  He squeezed her a little tighter and she petted the back of his head.

“Oh, Michael.  What’s wrong?  Are you okay?  Federico told me you had a bad shoot.  Was it a whole bad day?”

Michael finally pulled back.  He cupped her face and gave her a long kiss.  Maya couldn’t help but be self-conscious of their surroundings.  Michael never had any qualms about displaying his affection in public.  When he pulled back he helped her into her seat and she noticed that the patrons at a few nearby tables were looking at them.  Most of the women were smiling.  Michael sat across from her and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle in the cooler beside their table.  Technically he was supposed to wait for a waiter to do it for him, but he obviously was in no waiting mood as he drained the glass in three gulps.  He looked at her.

“Sorry.”

She smiled at him.  She didn’t care.

“It really was a bad shoot.  In fact, you’re right.  It was a God awful day.  I’m so sorry I kept you waiting.  But, after I got home…”

Michael trailed off.  Did he want to piss her off on their anniversary?  She leaned forward a little bit, looking concerned.

“What is it?  Tell me what’s wrong.”

Michael laughed humorlessly.  “Well, it’s nothing so easy like I hit someone with my car on the way over here or I lost my job or something.”

Maya sat back in her chair.  He was making light of it a little bit, so it couldn’t really be earth-shattering.  But he was trying to imply that it was going to make her very unhappy.  There was only one thing about Michael that made her unhappy.  She refolded the napkin in her lap.

“Matthew,” she stated.

Michael sighed.  He knew it.  He should have said he hit a cat or something and had to console a little girl.

“He was waiting for me at my building.”

“Michael—”  She didn’t even have to say anything.

“I know, I know,” he said, leaning forward so he could speak in a quieter voice.  “He needs help.  More than what I can do for him.  And I know that now.  I’m going to get him some real help.”

“And what gave you this epiphany?”

Michael wouldn’t look at her.  “He was going through withdrawal.”

“Withdrawal?”  Maya clenched the napkin in her lap.  “From marijuana?”

Michael waved away the approaching waiter.  “Apparently he tried a little heroin,” he mumbled softly.

“Jesus, Michael!”

“I know!  Shh.  I know.  He needs help.  First thing in the morning.  He just needs to sleep it off for tonight.”

“What?” Maya hissed, leaning forward.  She took in a breath and forced herself to calm down.  She wasn’t angry at Michael, she was angry at Matthew.  Well, no, right now she was angry with Michael.  “You left a druggie alone in your apartment?”

“He’s not a druggie.”

“Michael.”  Her tone was enough to get her point across.  “He’s going to steal from you.”

“That’s fine,” Michael sighed.  “I don’t care.  He needs the money and he’ll never just take any from me.”

“Michael, all he’s going to do is use the money to buy more drugs!”  She lowered her voice.  “Don’t you see that?  Don’t you see that he’s not getting better?  And that he will never get better if you just keep helping him and saving him from the consequences?”

“What would you have me do, Maya?  Abandon him?  Think back to your childhood with your sisters.  Think back to how much you loved them and wanted to take care of them and what good kids they were.  Would you turn your back on one of them now just because they were having problems as adults?  _Could_ you?”

“Michael, I understand how you feel about your brother.  But he’s not just ‘having problems.’  This is serious.”

“I know.  I really do know that.  And I hate that it does this to us.  And I know you don’t feel safe around him and I don’t blame you for that.  I just—”

“It’s not about me.  It’s about you.  This could cost you more than you’re letting yourself realize.  It could damage your reputation and affect your job and cost you a lot of money.”

His eyes hardened as he looked at her now.  She swallowed.  She didn’t like that look.

“He’s more important to me than those things, Maya.”

“This could negatively impact a lot of your relationships.”

“Relationships?” he snapped.  “Like with you?”

Maya sighed.  “Michael, I love you.  That’s not even a question.  But—but I can’t plan my life around him.”

“Plan your life around him?  He is not that bad.  He’s never seriously affected anything to do with you.  He’s _not_ that bad.  He doesn’t do hard drugs.  He’s not some druggie from the streets looking for someone to knock over so he’ll have the money for his next hit.”

“Not now he’s not.  But what about tomorrow when he thinks that withdrawal sucks and it’d be easier just to find some nice crack whore to help him with his jones?”

“Jesus,” Michael growled.  “Well, fine, fine.”  He started to fight with his coat pocket for something.  “I get it now.  You’ll take all of my good qualities and none of my bad.  Fine.  I don’t want you to have to plan your life around my ups and downs.  That would be too difficult for you.  But you can keep this anyway.”  He finally managed to yank his hand free and tossed a black box across the table.  Maya stared at the small jewelry box.  She was frozen in place.  She had to consciously force her arm to move.  She reached out a hand slowly.  Her fingers were trembling.  She licked her lips and picked up the box.  She took in a couple deep breaths and opened the lid.  She stared at its contents.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Your engagement ring,” he moaned embarrassedly.

Maya looked at the thing in the box.  It was vaguely ring shaped, but the band was crusty and greenish.  The thing in the middle that might have at one point resembled a stone looked like a bubbled up piece of petrified snot.  She raised an eyebrow.  Engagement.  That was a good thing.  It was the thing she hadn’t dared let herself even imagine was a possibility.  But…she looked at Michael.  He looked back.

“You want to know how bad my day really was?”

 

Fourteen and a half hours earlier.

Michael awoke with a start.  He looked at the clock on his nightstand.  It glowed 4:58 at him.  Why had he woken up?  The alarm wouldn’t go off for another two minutes, and he certainly wasn’t someone whose body learned to wake up on its own.  He flopped over onto his back.  The dream had woke him up.  What had he dreamed about?  The memory of it was fading fast.  Except for the feeling of sorrow and regret it’d left him with.  He closed his eyes.  What had it been about?  His alarm went off and he flung out a hand to turn it off.  When the buzzing stopped he thought briefly of his college roommate.  Had he been dreaming about him?  That didn’t make sense.  He hadn’t seen the guy in more than seven years now.  And they hadn’t had a bad relationship.  Was he sorry he’d lost touch with him?  Not really.

His cell phone rang.  He let out a little whimper.  It was starting already.  Why had he worked so hard to get this job?  He sat up, deciding he would ignore the first call of the day, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across from his bed.  He turned to the side and flexed a little bit.  He was still quite tone, but his new job was taking up a lot of his time.  He hadn’t been to the gym very often lately.  He should start working it into his schedule before he got all flabby.  He made a face at himself in the mirror.  Vanity was a deadly sin, right?  Or was that pride?  Was there a difference?  He tossed a pillow at his reflection.  He should move that stupid mirror.  It was bad feng shui anyway.

He rolled out of bed, very excited to begin the day.  No matter what happened, it was going to be a good day.  He got to see Maya tonight.  And he was going to propose to her.  Everything was going to be—

“Motherfucker!” Michael shouted as he stubbed his toe on the leg of his bed.  No one was around so he allowed himself to collapse to the floor and cry in pain.  He groaned and lay on his back, his hands covering his face.  Why did stubbing your toe hurt so damn much?  But he wasn’t going to let this get to him.  It was going to be a great day.  All he had to do was pick up the ring from the jeweler's and go to a simple photo shoot in the afternoon.  Then he would be able to go see Maya.  She was kind of prudish, which he actually found quite endearing, but he had a sneaking suspicion an engagement ring would bring out her saucy side.

Michael rolled over to his stomach and pushed himself off the floor.  Well, if a stubbed toe was the worst thing that happened to him all day, he was in good shape.  Maybe he could get into and out of work without running into Tom.  Michael made a face just thinking about the little weasel.  Weasel boy.  He felt a nearly overwhelming urge to punch him every time he saw his face.  And the urge was getting closer and closer to completely overwhelming every day.  All the guy did was try to sneak around and snake other people’s ideas.  And the worst part of it was that he was good at it.  If he would just channel that energy and creativity into actually coming up with his own ad campaigns, he’d be very successful.  Unfortunately the guy was a parasite, and a self-righteous one at that.  Every wrong that came his way was unfair and not his fault and he was so “awesome” that he should already be a CEO.  So, obviously he was disgusted that he was a junior executive and forced to “work for” Michael.  Tom was completely useless to him and pretty much acted like his equal if not outright superior.  He wondered why he’d been saddled with the little twerp.  Someone once told him that it was because he had the most even temperament in the company.  He supposed if being able to refrain from punching the weasel in the nads qualified him for the most even temperament, he must have it.

Michael turned on the shower and adjusted the knobs so that the water temperature would be just right.  Then he spent the next 38 seconds taking off his sleeping boxers and straightening up the bed a little bit.  He’d have to make it up properly before he left; he and Maya were probably going to come back to his place.  Maya’s crazy friend and roommate usually went out every night, but she would come back drunk more often than not with some wild tale to tell her friend.  Drew’s stories were entertaining, but not at three in the morning.  Or mid-coitus.  That had been awkward.

Michael returned to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.  He yelped and jumped back out, his skin still stinging from the frigid blast of water.  He frowned and glanced at the knobs: they were set right.  And he had definitely waited long enough before getting in.  He stuck his hand under the nozzle; the water seemed to have actually gotten colder.  He turned up the heat: nothing.  He turned down the cold water: no change.  He turned the cold water completely off and the hot water all the way up.  Water pumped directly from the Arctic Circle continued to pour from the faucet.  Michael sighed.  What could he do?  Try to shower at the gym?  Shower at work?  Sponge bathe?

He glanced at the clock on the wall, the face definitely in no danger of steaming up today.  It was 5:15.  He must have cried on the floor longer than he thought.  Technically if he didn’t have time to shower here he should have time somewhere else, but did he want to put on his clean suit?  He’d have to take a change of clothes.  And a hair dryer.  He couldn’t walk into his meeting with a wet head.  And more than likely he would be accosted as soon as he got off the elevator to start working on something.  So, he really needed to be clean when he walked in the door.  That meant he’d need to shower and dress at the gym, which could be dangerous.  Taylor was still there.

Michael knew that he was a little different from most people, and in general that tended to get him noticed in a good way.  It had helped further his career and improved the quality of his life by making it interesting.  He supposed he should have known one day it might bite him in the ass.  That day had happened six months ago.

Michael liked to flirt with gay men.  He found it to be fun and a lot more intellectually stimulating than flirting with women.  With women he had to do most of the work and figure out what style the woman liked and how much of it she could take.  With men, it was nothing but double entendre, punch lines, and seeing who could outdo the other with the classiest crudeness.  It was fun.  And most of the men he flirted with knew he was joking and were well aware that he was straight.  Taylor, on the other hand, had taken it a little too seriously.  Now it was nearly impossible to go to the gym without him being there and chasing after him to either declare his love and that they should run away together or to verbally abuse him for being an asshole and to make his workout a living hell.  It depended on the man’s mood.  Well, “man” might be giving him too much credit.  He was only 19 and pretty swishy—even for a gay guy.

Michael could have just switched gyms, but he loved the aerobics instructor.  He didn’t take any of her classes of course, he just liked to watch her instruct.  But he was getting engaged tonight.  He needed to say goodbye to the aerobics instructor.  And Taylor for that matter.  He thought about starting a new membership at a different gym this morning, but he didn’t have the time for that.  Plus, maybe he should wait to make sure Maya would actually say yes before he said goodbye to—to—what was her name?  Oh, well, “aerobics girl.”  A cold sponge bath it was then.  At least he had a detachable shower head so that he could wash his hair without having to jump in and out of the spray like a deranged bunny rabbit.

By the time he was clean and dry and dressed it was nearing 6:00.  He was supposed to be at his office in five minutes.  It was a good thing it only took him about ten to get to work.  Though he would miss having his routine six minute chat with Ian.  If someone pressed Michael to define their relationship, he supposed he’d call him a friend.  But did talking for six minutes on weekdays and going out occasionally for a beer on the weekends count as a friendship?  Yeah, close enough in the upper echelons of the corporate world.

Ian was a funny guy.  He had very Irish roots and was a big, red-haired, freckled man nearing forty.  He sported a big, thick, bushy (red) beard to hide the freckles on his face.  Michael loved to tease him about it and Ian would usually insult his clothing.  Michael wore Ralph Lauren and Hugo Boss suits while Ian strutted around in Prada and Armani.  The big, quite blunt man didn’t seem the type to be into designer labels, but he harassed Michael non-stop about his “shabby” wardrobe.  And he was always perfectly punctual, so he was probably well on his way to work by now.

Michael looked himself over in the mirror by the front door.  He looked young.  And he supposed he was.  He was only 28, but he felt like if he was going to get taken more seriously in his job he needed to look older.  Maybe he should spend some time in the sun and get a few wrinkles.  Unfortunately if he spent some time in the sun he’d also bake himself to a nice deep brown color—and then his clothing wouldn’t match his skin tone anymore and Ian would have a field day.  Of course, deep brown was better than sallow yellow.  He knew what he looked like with that skin color as well.

Michael sighed, irritated with himself for thinking of his brother and bringing down his mood.  He hadn’t seen him in close to two months now.  He hoped he wasn’t getting into any serious trouble.  The last employment he’d managed to procure (with Michael’s reluctant help) he’d gotten fired from because he’d been high on the job.  How anyone could tell you were high when you worked the graveyard shift at a trashy convenience store was beyond Michael’s comprehension, but nevertheless, his brother was once again jobless, homeless, and…missing.

Michael took his keys out of the bowl that sat on the table under the mirror.  Time for work.  He was just going to have to forget his brother for now.  He had too much going on to worry about him.  He knew Matthew would show up eventually, asking for money or a place to crash for a week.  He always did.  And when it happened, he and Maya always fought.  Michael’s mood dropped even lower.  He loved Maya and was certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and (if she was willing) raise their children together, but Matthew would always be a bone of contention between them.  Because Maya had every right to not want a loser drug addict in her life, but Michael knew he would never be able to turn his back on his brother.

The one good thing about his chaotic and soul-sucking job was that it always distracted him from his problems.  He hadn’t even gotten off the elevator yet when three of his underlings accosted him about three different projects he was working on.  Two of which were still six months off.  He was rescued by his assistant, Luke.  He was an averaged sized man in both height and build, but he was well skilled in the techniques required to shoulder people out of his boss’ way.  He grabbed a hold of Michael’s arm now and shoved a panicking blonde whose name Michael could never remember into the corner of the hallway.  She yelped as her papers scattered everywhere and Luke smiled as the other assistants cried out for Michael’s attention.  Michael just shook his head in amusement and let Luke practically manhandle him to his office.

As soon as the door shut there was merciful silence.  The executives had soundproofed offices.  Luke was already starting to tell him about the day he had ahead of him as he fixed him a cup of coffee.  Michael sat on his desk and watched his assistant work.  He was quite handsome and probably had been hired for that reason alone by his former boss—one Mrs. Henrietta Moreside.  Mrs. Moreside was now working out of the LA office, and Luke had elected to stay behind.  Michael had inherited him by random happenstance, but he was glad Mrs. Moreside had trained him well.  He was a perfect assistant.  He knew what items needed Michael’s attention and which he could delegate to other people; he knew how to organize a schedule so that it wasn’t overwhelming; he had a phenomenal memory and was completely willing to be at Michael’s beck and call.  He was a hell of a lot better than the assistant he’d had as a junior executive.  She had cried every time Michael asked her do something.  Or maybe she’d cried when he’d yelled at her.  He couldn’t remember if those two things always occurred together or not.  He didn’t know if Luke would cry if he yelled at him; he’d never had to.  He was that good.

Luke handed Michael Ellison his coffee and enjoyed watching the man’s hand wrap around the white coffee mug next to his.  In normal circumstances their hands looked like a white man’s and a black man’s, but against the white cup it was obvious Michael wasn’t from an Anglo-Saxon background and Luke wasn’t completely black.  He always thought their skin tones would make a good world peace poster ad.  But if he ever wanted to be where Michael was and not just an assistant, he needed to start thinking of designs that would sell… _stuff_.

“What are you looking at, Luke?”

Luke raised his eyes up and was startled to find Michael smirking at him.  His immediate reaction was to blush; it was times like these that he truly appreciated the color of his skin.  He gave Michael a bored look.

“Oh, please.  I was just thinking of an idea for that ‘women of color’ make-up line you have coming up.  Why is your first instinct always to assume that I’m in love with you?”

Michael laughed.  “I think everybody is in love with me.”

Still chuckling to himself Michael got up to walk around his desk.  Luke dropped his eyes to the beige carpet.

“It’s probably because everyone is in love with you,” he mumbled.

“So.  What were those three screeching about out there?”

Luke cleared his throat and opened up the thick folder he had in his hand.  He walked around to stand next to where Michael sat in his big, comfy leather chair and laid out the contents of the folder on the desk.

“Two of them I wouldn’t have you worry about today.  But the Mina Galileo line has sent you the initial designs for its fall collection, so you’ll need to have ideas ready for when they call on Friday.  You have a conference call with the Chicago office at 8:00.  There’s the meeting with the other executives to view new photographic talent at 10:30.  You have a lunch meeting with Mr. Glass at 12:30—and if I were you I’d have some ideas regarding the Rimmel London line.  He’s thinking of picking them up and if you can show initiative there he might give the project to you.  And then at 1:00 you need to go pick up your ‘item’ from Tiffany’s.  2:00 is model selection for the Banana Boat commercial.  And then at 4:00 begin your individual appointments with your employees.  But don’t worry; they’re only fifteen minutes each.”

Michael could feel himself making a face.  He had better be out of here by 6:00 tonight; he was not going to be late to his anniversary dinner.  Then something clicked in his brain.

“Wait a minute.  What about the Sunshine shoot?  I could have sworn that was today.  How come I have all this crap scheduled over it?”

“Ah.  Yeah.  Um.”

“Um, what?” Michael asked turning in the chair so he could look at Luke fully.  He wasn’t returning eye contact.

“Well.  June McCrady called.  She said she thought she could do it, but she can’t work with you this soon.”

“This soon?!  It’s been five years already!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t sleep with your photographers.”

“I didn’t sleep with her!  She just got mad that I messed around with her photos so much.”

“Oh.  So who did you sleep with?”

“Luke.”

“Sorry.  Anyway.  She cancelled.”

“Isn’t she under contract?”

“She said she was willing to pay the fee.”

“Really?  Jesus.  I’m not that bad.”

“Are you sure you didn’t sleep with her?”

“Yes, I’m—”  Michael hesitated and thought for a moment.  “Yes, I’m certain.”  Michael’s sigh turned into a groan.  “So, you’re telling me that I have no photographer for the shoot that has to take place today because the proofs are due before the client in two days?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t get saucy with me.  All right.  All right.  Okay.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m thinking!”  Michael made a face at his assistant.  What a punk he was turning out to be.  Michael pushed the speaker button on his desk phone and hit the second speed dial.  It rang three times and then he was greeted by Keane.

“Michael, whatever the hell it is.  No.”

“Keane, baby, I told you you would regret automatically turning me down one day.  I’m in my office right now with my incredibly sexy assistant, Luke, and we were looking for a third.”

Luke gave Michael a dirty look, but his boss just gave him a quick raise of the eyebrows and a smile.

“Talk about getting saucy,” Luke groused.

“Michael, I don’t believe a word you’re saying.  I have evidence from three nights ago that would suggest your utter devotion to the female gender.  Or, at least one female in particular.  What do you want?”

“I need a photographer.”

“Eh, I don’t know.  They’re usually pretty bratty in bed.”

“True.  But some of them are fucking amazing.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Who are _you_ talking about?  Federico is a make-up artist, right?”

“Michael Ellison.  I think it’s time I shortened your leash again.”

“Oh, you know all the right things to say to get me hot,” Michael responded dryly.  “Anyway.  I have a shoot today and the photographer cancelled.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

Luke gave him a “mm-hmm” look.  Michael ignored his assistant.

“No, I didn’t.  Apparently this is due to professional differences.”

“Like?”

“Like, I have good taste and she has the artistic eye of a water buffalo.”

“Hmm.  You know, you wouldn’t have such strenuous shoots or difficulties working with photographers if you didn’t try to do their jobs for them.  You’re supposed to edit the finished product, not take the pictures yourself.”

“I can’t help that I’m better at it than they are.”

“Normally I would roll my eyes at the clearly ludicrous statement made by an ad executive, but you often are better.  Why is that?  You have no formal training.  I know because I’ve seen your CV.”

“Look, Keane, I’m swamped today.  Can you call up one of your backup photographers and cover the shoot for me until I can get there?”

“Michael!”

“Please.  It should start around 10:30.  It’ll be over by 1:00.”

Michael held his breath.  Would Keane buy that?  More than likely it would be over by 4:00.  He listened for sounds from the other line.  Finally he heard Keane heave a sigh.

“Fine, fine.  Only for you.  But now you owe me.  And I have another set to supervise at 2:00.  I am leaving at 1:00 whether the shoot is over or not.  Got that?”

“Got it.  Thank you so much, Keane.  I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh, you definitely will.  I can’t wait to meet your assistant.”

Michael laughed and Luke gasped in slightly exaggerated shock.

“Bye, Keane.”  Michael hung up and looked at Luke.  He was still frowning.  “Oh, come on.  You know you’d love it.”

“Yeah, but my girlfriend may have a problem with it.”

“How is that going by the way?”

“You have a conference call coming in soon.  I better set up for it.”

“That good, huh?”

Luke walked away from him and Michael waited for the inevitable crash to the short peace he’d gotten in the few minutes he’d been with Luke.   It started with a terrible call with the Chicago office.  He was being blamed for something that he hadn’t even been involved with.  They didn’t seem to quite fully grasp that he was in New York and not Miami.  It also ran over by two hours so that by the time he escaped the lashing he’d missed his meeting and was possibly going to be late for lunch with the president of the company.  He was followed down the elevator by three yapping Chihuahuas (or his employees, one or the other) and couldn’t even make it to the lobby before he was forcefully yanked off on the third floor by Jonas Little, a fellow ad exec.  Luke had had his hands full and had been unable to protect him.

“Michael, where the heck have you been?  Everyone is POed.”

Michael loved Jonas.  He would never curse and it was so cute listening to him come up with alternatives.  Luke was chasing after them.

“We don’t have time for this, Michael!”

“Michael, you have to give us your opinion on the new talent.  We can’t do anything about them without full consensus.”

“Can’t I send a proxy?  Luke has a good eye and I have a meeting with Mr. Glass.”

“Look, I understand your position here.  But, unfortunately, your already have a ‘proxy,’ and we need you to overrule him. Tom is being a pain.”

Michael bit his bottom lip.  He was going to kill that twit if he was causing problems in his name.  In the meeting room the shades were all open so that light from the three walls of glass illuminated the whole room in clean, natural light.  It was tainted somewhat by the arguing going on over the birch colored conference table.  There were literally hundreds of pictures scattered over the huge expanse of the table.  They didn’t appear to be organized at all.  Had they not agreed on anything?  A man with dirty blonde hair and a face that might have been attractive if he wasn’t sneering and smirking all the time was right in the middle of it all.  Where else would Tom “weasel boy” Heppner be?

“Tom,” Michael said calmly, “what are you doing here?  This meeting is for the executives.”

Tom flexed his jaw, recognizing the jab for what it was but trying not to react to it.  “I know.  But you were still stuck in your conference call when it started.  I know that a consensus is required for them to make any decisions, so I decided I would come as your proxy.  I felt confident in doing so because I know your aesthetic preferences.  Plus, I do have rather refined taste myself.”

Everyone behind Tom was rolling their eyes and waiting for Michael to stick it to him.

“Ah, I see.  Thank you for taking the initiative, Tom.  I appreciate your willingness to do what is necessary for the team.  I’ll be sure to look at what you’ve chosen and I will probably just okay your decisions.  But it’ll make it easier if I sign off on it myself.  Save us some paperwork.  Thank you, Tom.”

Everyone, including Tom, was a little surprised by Michael’s response.  Tom flicked his hazel eyes back and forth across Michael’s face.  He really hated his “boss,” and yet there were so many things he had to respect about him.  For instance, there was nothing he could do now to make Michael come off as an unreasonable bastard.  And he had also been summarily dismissed, but in such a polite way that all he could do was smile and simper at his “boss.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Michael.  I really do just want what is best for the company.”

Michael smiled at him.  Tom smiled back.  He walked past Michael cracking his knuckles.  One day he was going to nail that self-righteous tool to a wall.  Or on a bed.  Tom shook his head.  None of those thoughts!  He was over that now.

Michael watched with a quirked eyebrow as Tom shook his head and rapped his knuckles against it.  Aside from being a weasel, he was kind of weird too.  Michael turned back to the group.  Most looked relieved that he’d managed to get rid of Tom without a confrontation, but a few were upset he hadn’t taken the opportunity to ream him out in front of everyone like he deserved.  He’d seriously considered it, but he just didn’t have the time for it today.

“Okay, guys, I actually really have to go.  So, just pick what you want and I’m here to say that whatever you pick is fine with me.”

“Michael!  This is serious!”

Michael edged away from Rick.  He was looking a little wild-eyed.  “I’m sorry, but I have to meet Mr. Glass in,” he checked his watch, “twelve minutes.  I can’t look through all these photos.”  Michael looked at the table and put his hand on one of the photos nearer to him.  “Look, Tom does have a good eye.  If he picked something out, go with it.”

All seven executives burst out in yelling.  Michael didn’t pay attention to them.  By moving one of the photos he’d revealed another.  He creased his eyebrows together and picked it up.  It was just a picture of a little girl on a beach, and it really wasn’t spectacular.  He didn’t pick it up because he’d been struck by its unique composition or avant garde style.  But it was the best photograph technically he’d seen in a very long while, and yet, there was still life in it.  But that wasn’t it either.  It just looked familiar to him.  Or, it felt familiar.  Which was strange because he didn’t know any little girls and he rarely vacationed at the beach.  He flipped the photo over; it only had a number on it.  They kept the names of the photographers anonymous while they picked out new talent so as not to be biased.  Finally the shouting cut into his thoughts.

“This one,” Michael said, holding up the picture.  “I want this photographer.  There’s my input.”

He handed the picture to Rick and started to leave.

“But, this one is from the rejection pile,” Rick said, a little irritated.

“Well, I guess it’s good that I did come then.  I want that one.”

“Okay, whatever.  We’re giving this one to you.”

“Fine.”

Luke was frantically trying to get him out the door.  Michael wasn’t all that concerned about being late anymore.  What did it matter what the disconnected president of the company wanted?  He wasn’t involved with the creative process at all.  Or any processing part.  He just made public appearances, took credit, and spent money.  If he arbitrarily decided to promote or demote somebody, the company worked around it.  Usually generating a new position to accommodate the unnecessary change.  He supposed it was a good thing he had a loyal assistant who was willing to worry about it for him.

The lunch meeting was set to take place at the Four Seasons, which wasn’t terribly close to his office building.  So, he wound up being fifteen minutes late despite Luke’s best efforts.  It turned out to be okay because Mr. Glass wasn’t coming at all and Mr. Lightner, one of the VPs, was thirty minutes late.  This change had Michael worried.  It was one thing to get called out by the president and another to be suddenly cancelled on.  Was he getting fired?  It seemed like he would send someone lower down the pecking order to can someone.

Michael shooed Luke away and greeted the vice president—one of sixteen.  The title was kind of a joke.

“Hello, Mr. Lightner.  It’s a pleasant surprise to see you here.  I hope Mr. Glass is well?”

“Oh, yes, yes.  He’s fine.  It’s actually my fault he’s not here.  Let’s sit down, shall we?  Oh, and please call me Kerr.”

He and Michael followed the hostess to a private booth in the back of the restaurant.  Michael was very curious by what Mr. Lightner had meant about it being his fault Mr. Glass couldn’t make it.  But he was going to have to wait for an explanation because his boss was fussily hanging up his jacket and asking for a tonic and gin with very specific instructions for the hostess…who seemed very confused that someone was giving her a drink order.  The man was in his fifties and had kind of a chicken face with a shock of dark hair that fell across his forehead, and that was about it.  He was bald from crown to nape.  Why didn’t he just shave that little bit off?

“Now.  Sorry about that,” Mr. Lightner said, settling into his seat.  He made a face and shifted uncomfortably a few times.  Michael wondered if he was going to ask that they be moved.  Finally, he stopped squirming.  “Now then.  James was running quite late for this meeting, so I volunteered to come in his stead and tell you what he intended to say to you.  Pretty much it was just to congratulate you on your promotion and to tell you what a great job he thinks you’re doing.”

Michael heaved an internal sigh of relief and relaxed a little bit.

“James likes to do these things in person, especially for those who have shown a real gift for what they do.  Of course, I understand _my_ being here kind of under minds that…”

“Not at all,” Michael sucked up.

“But I do confess that I twisted his arm a bit to get him to let me come.  I have been following your work since you became a junior executive and you are very talented.  I don’t think the rest of this company knows just yet how lucky we are that we snapped you up as an intern.”

Michael smiled.  Ah, veneration was so nice.

“And really, everything you work on turns out beautifully.  That mascara ad—it’s pure genius.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please…Kerr.”  He waited.  So did Michael.  Mr. Lightner smiled at him.  “Go on, try it.”

“Oh.  Um.  Thank you.  Kerr.”

“Good boy.  Now…”  Michael hid his reaction to that patronizing praise.  “If I recall correctly, that ad wasn’t the easiest to put together.”

“Oh, well.  Every shoot and campaign has its problems…”

“Oh, don’t be modest.  You took control of a nightmare situation and made a dream out of it.  You have that talent…that charisma…that…je ne sais quoi.”

Michael couldn’t quite keep his eyebrow down.  He’d just come up with two adjectives, so obviously it wasn’t a “je ne sais quoi.”

“You’re also a good mentor.  I bet anyone who works with you could learn a lot and really advance their own careers.”

“Um.”  Michael started to get a bad feeling.  “Thank you.  I’m flattered.  Really.”

“Yes.  Well.  I know of an up and coming fellow in this industry.  He really has a good eye for… _avant garde_ composition.  Sometimes so avant garde it almost misses the mark.  Which is why I think working with someone like you might help to refine his taste and give him the direction he needs to really make a name for himself.”

Mr. Lightner looked at him, waiting for a reaction.  Michael refused to give one.  He just gripped the edges of the seat cushions tightly.  A waiter arrived with Mr. Lightner’s drink.  He waved the waiter away and then took a sip from it as he looked at Michael over the glass.

“I’ve heard you have a shoot today.”

Michael held his breath.

“Maybe this new visionary can work with you on it.”

 _Don’t say it.  Don’t say it_ , Michael silently pleaded with his boss.

“His name is Lionel Rienmeyer.  It would be terrific if you could use his talents on your shoot.”

Michael let his breath out, but he’d been holding it so long that he coughed.  It didn’t escape Mr. Lightner’s notice.  He put his drink down and his face fell a little.

“Ah.  I see you’ve met Lionel before.”

“W-well…I may have spoken with him once…or twice.”

“Look,” Mr. Lightner sighed.  “There’s only so much I can do for him.  All the campaigns he’s worked on have turned out horrendously.  I just thought if he worked with you on one, there would finally be a project that turned out well that he could put his name on.  Because I truly believe you have the ability to withstand a force like Lionel.”

“Mr. Lightner—Kerr.  I really and truly am flattered that you think I can manipulate space and time…but Lionel is…I really don’t want my second big project since my promotion to tank.”

Michael realized it was unwise to say that.  An insult to the boss’ sex toy was an insult to the boss as well.  But he just couldn’t deal with Lionel today.  In fact, Keane might kill him if he arrived at the set and found Lionel there.

“Michael, please.  Do this for me, and I promise your good deed will not go overlooked come bonus time.”

Michael sat back in the booth in a huff.  No bonus in the world was worth having to deal with that queen.  Michael scowled as he looked the slightly mousey man over.

“You know, Lionel doesn’t really seem your type.”

Mr. Lightner looked truly shocked.  It was one thing for there to be an unspoken acknowledgment that all the company executives had something on the side whether it be male or female…but it was quite another to make it spoken.  Michael decided to take a risk with Mr. Lightner.  And it paid off.  The man shook off his surprise and shrugged.

“The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“And the penis?”

His boss smiled invitingly at him as he took another sip of his gin.  “Well.  It usually gets what it wants too.”  Mr. Lightner flicked his eyes over Michael.  “You _are_ cute when you pout.”

“I’ve been told that before.”  Michael made a face.  “Fine.  Fine.  Send Lionel over to the J St. studio.  If you’ll excuse me now though, I’ve got to go pick up my future fiancée’s engagement ring.”

“Fiancée?  With two e’s?”

“Yes.”

“Hn.  Nobody likes a tease.”

“Strange.”  Michael slid out of the booth.  “Everyone I work for does.”

Mr. Lightner smiled.  “Michael Ellison, you are going places.”

“Just as long as I’m not on my back when I get there.”

“Certainly not.  Your knees would be just fine.”

Michael couldn’t hold back his smile.  “Good day, Mr. Lightner.”

“Good day, Mr. Ellison.”

Michael left the Four Seasons not believing what had just happened.  He supposed it was a good thing to have one of his bosses be fond of him.  But then again, this could be one of those things that could come back to bite him on the butt.  Hopefully putting up with his kept boy was the only favor Mr. Lightner was going to ask of him.

Michael hailed a cab and took it down to the Tiffany’s on 5th Avenue.  It wasn’t the closest store to where he lived, but he felt like it would be sufficiently cheesy to get Maya’s engagement ring from there.  It wasn’t too busy on a Wednesday afternoon, aside from the gaggle of junior high aged tourists hanging around out front and looking through the windows.  Michael remembered making this trip when he’d been in school.  He’d come from a little suburban bed of Washington, D.C. and at the time thought New York City would be the last place he’d ever live.  He knew better now.  North Korea was the last place he’d ever live.  There and Detroit.

He was greeted with a friendly smile from two sales associates.  He was greeted very politely at whatever high end store he went into.  Those people had been trained to recognize money.

“Hi.  I’m here to pick up a ring.”

“Oh.”

One of them turned and walked away.  If she wasn’t going to get a commission, there was no point in being polite.  The other one had a little more sense than that.

“Come with me, sir.  May I have your name?”

“Michael Ellison.”

Michael waited by the register as the girl dug around in a locked cabinet behind the counter.  She pulled out a white receipt and a robin’s egg blue bag.  She smiled as she walked over to him and then began to undo the wrappings.  Michael shifted his weight.  How many ribbons and bags and boxes were needed for one ring?  Finally, the woman handed him a white box.  Michael took it from her and opened it.

“Oh!” the girl cried out.  “I love this ring.  I really do.  I know most women like white diamonds, but pink diamonds are so much more romantic.”

“You think?”

“Unh-hunh.  I really do.  And the band is so amazing!  I love the description: ‘102 hand set diamonds,’” she quoted.  “This ring is to die for.  I would _melt_ if some guy gave it to me.”

“I see.  Well, should I ever propose to you I’ll keep that in mind.  But…this isn’t the ring I ordered.”

Her smile disappeared for a moment.  And then she laughed.  “Well, of course it is.  It _has_ to be,” she added a bit desperately.

“Noooo…I’m pretty sure I remember ordering an unromantic white diamond.”

“Oh, dear.”

She snapped up the white receipt and read the description of the item he ordered.  Her look of distress confirmed that he hadn’t gone insane.  She turned and went back to the cabinet.  She dug around inside matching up bags and receipts for a full five minutes before standing up and looking around the store.  Michael wasn’t sure if she was thinking of other places the ring could be or looking for a quick escape.  Finally she came back to the register and opened it.  She lifted the cash tray and pulled out a couple of receipts.  She looked at one and then picked up the box with the pink ring.  She examined the tag on it and checked the receipt again.  She smiled at Michael and then turned to the other sales associate in the store.

“Melinda!”

The girl who had initially walked away from Michael started in surprise at the loud shout in the quiet store.  She scurried over to the counter and smiled at Michael before giving her co-worker a warning look.

“What is it, Kristy?” she asked with feigned calmness.

“Didn’t you handle the other ring pick up this morning?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you check the tag against the receipt?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why is Mr. Ellison’s ring missing and Mr. Kaleta’s—who should have picked his up this morning—here?”

“Um.  I gave him the box that was with his receipt.”

“Did you show him the ring?”

“No.  He said he was in a hurry.”

“But you _have_ to show it to him.  He has to sign the form saying it’s what he ordered!”

“He signed it anyway!”

Kristy let out a noise and turned away from her co-worker.  She looked sheepishly at Michael.

“Um, Mr. Ellison.  I’m sorry, but it seems…”

“There’s been some sort of mix up?” Michael supplied for her.

“Um.  Yes.”

“So.  My $12,000 engagement ring is missing?”

“Not missing,” Melinda tried.  “It’s just with Mr. Kaleta.  We can call him and try to track him down.”

“Why don’t you do that?”

Melinda grabbed the receipt and headed off for a phone, leaving Kristy behind with the displeased customer.

“Mr. Ellison, I am so sorry for this mix up.  This never happens.  I mean, we are always so careful about this.  And I’ve never heard of a customer just taking a ring before without checking it out first.  That’s just strange.  Um, but.  Of course, we will partially reimburse you for your troubles.”

She had mumbled “partially” quite softly.

“Um, Mr. Ellison?”

Michael turned to Melinda.  That had been an awfully fast call.  That did not bode well.

“Mr. Kaleta’s phone went straight to his voicemail and it had a message saying that he was going to be out of the country with his new fiancée for the next two weeks.”

Both the girls bit their lips nervously as they waited for his reaction.  Michael strummed his fingers on the counter.  So, Mr. Kaleta probably realized his mistake when he proposed to his girlfriend, but if they were at the airport when he did it, he probably wasn’t going to tell his new fiancée she’d have to wait for her ring.  So, why should Maya have to wait for hers?

“Um.  We can have a new one ordered for you and put a rush on it,” Kristal tried to console him.

“That would be nice.  But in the mean time, can I have this one?  I’ll pay for it.”

“But this one is $14,000.”

“I’ll pay the difference.”

“But.  We can’t give you someone else’s ring.”

Michael passed a hand over his face in an attempt to calm himself down.  He looked at his watch; he had less than twenty minutes to get across town for the model selections.  Plus he also needed to check in on the Sunshine shoot.

“Okay.  What’s the cheapest ring you have in the store?  Right now.”

“$7000.”

Michael pushed his fingertips into the glass counter.  That was a lot of money for a ring he wanted temporarily.  And what if they wouldn’t take the damn thing back?  If he just needed a temporary ring with a promise of a better one later, then did it matter if it cost $7000 or $70?  It wouldn’t to Maya.  Then again, he could always postpone his proposal until he got the replacement ring.  But he wanted to do it tonight—on their anniversary.

“Okay.  Order me a new one and please let me know when it’s ready.”

“Of course, Mr. Ellison.  Again, we—”

“I know, I know.  You’re very sorry.  Have a nice day, ladies.”

Michael turned around and walked out of the store.  He massaged one of his temples.  Why was this day sucking so much?  Outside it took him ten minutes to get a cab.  He couldn’t understand it.  He was in New York City.  The taxis outnumbered the people 3 to 1.  So how come he could never get one without having to throw himself bodily in front of it?  And the taxi he did manage to get didn’t come equipped with a bad driver.  Which meant it took twice as long to get to the shoot.  He was running late to everything today.

As he ran for the sketchy building where the castings were taking place he noticed the pawn shop nearby with the barred windows.  In fact, every store on the street had bars on the windows.  He had no idea why model castings always took place in the sketchiest places in New York.  One would think people were afraid of models.  They could be snotty, but they really weren’t that hard to—

Michael stopped that train of thought as he opened the door to the fourth floor studio and had to dodge out of the way of a flying shoe.  He stared at the wall where the stiletto heel stuck out of the plaster right at about eye level.  He looked into the room.  A model in a bikini was screaming and waving her hands around and gesticulating wildly at one of the male models.  The casting director and her assistants were huddling behind their little card table like it would protect them from future projectiles.  Michael walked up to the screeching girl and yelled even louder than she was for her to shut-up.  She shut-up.

He cleared his throat to relieve some of the scratchiness that resulted from his yelling.  “What is the problem here?”

“I swear to God!  If this asshole rubs his hard on up on me one more time—I will scratch up that pretty face of his!”

“I’m not doing anything!  I’m just big!”

Michael glanced down at the model in his little red Speedo.  He tilted his head.  It was hard to tell.  He could have an erection or he could just be big.  Michael reached out and pulled on the Speedo a bit so he could peek inside.  The model rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, but did nothing to hinder Michael’s investigation.  Michael gave an impressed raise of his eyebrows.  He looked up at the model.

“Not bad.”

“Thanks,” he replied wryly.

Michael turned to the female model.  “He doesn’t have an erection.  But, I really see no reason for you guys to have to touch anyway.  All we need are some test shots of you on film.  Also, the colors the client wants to use are reds, oranges, and yellows.  So, if you don’t look good in warm colors—you should leave now.”

He’d actually hoped that would send one or two packing, but all sixteen stayed.  Eight men and eight women and they only needed one of each.  Plus a child.  Thank goodness they already had the child model sorted out.  He couldn’t stand casting children.  The kids were fine—but the parents were impossible.

“A-are you Michael Ellison from DYP Worldwide?”

Michael looked at the casting director, the one responsible for assembling the models.  She was a small woman with nervous eyes and nervous habits.  Michael immediately disliked her.  He hated people who were afraid of living.  It was one of the reasons he and his brother had such a hard time coming to terms about his drug use.

The woman tried to make herself useful by showing him the models’ headshots and some of the clips she’d already started making on film.  Michael tried really hard to concentrate, but in the end he just randomly pointed to two models and said that they would do.  Really, they all kind of looked the same to him anyway.  And they weren’t going to have any lines in the commercial.  He checked his watch and found that he was again running late for his employee meetings.  This sucked.  He really had to be out of the office by 6:00.  Then he slapped his forehead as he remembered that he still had to stop in at the Sunshine shoot.

As Michael was leaving the studio, contemplating whether to go back to the office or directly to the shoot, he ran across the room to the now dressed, well-endowed male model.  Michael quickly fished out a business card and handed it to him.

“Hey, uh.  Sorry about not selecting you today, but it’s kind of a family oriented commercial and I have a feeling there aren’t many bathing suits that could make you seem…unimpressive.  But, I’m doing a Calvin Klein underwear ad in a few weeks.  I’d like it if you could be a part of that shoot.”

The model glanced over his card and then looked up at him with a knowing air of irritation.  “I’m not gay,” he stated.

Michael blinked at him.  “Okay.  So, maybe you could just model for me then.”

“Sure.  And I’ll do nudity, but it has to be tasteful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Michael left the model and wondered why everything in this industry had to be about sex.  He couldn’t approach anyone, male or female, without them assuming that he was after sex.  Did he just exude that kind of creepy pervert vibe?  Maybe he should ask someone.

Outside on the street he saw the pawn shop again.  He looked at his watch and back at the shop.  He had intended to get Maya’s temporary ring from a mall jeweler, but he was running short on time today.  He walked into the shop and jumped at the loud, shrieking buzz that signaled his arrival.  An old Asian man hopped up from messing with the wires on an outdated stereo and ran behind the counter.  The glass was cloudy and the light in the case was orangey; it was hard to see anything inside of it.

“Yeh, ‘ow may I ‘elp you, sir?”

“Um.”  Michael knew he should just leave.  “Do you have any diamond rings?”

“Oh, yeh, sir.  Right ‘ere.  Come look.  So pretty.  What size you like?”

Michael followed the man down the length of the counter to the case that housed the jewelry.  Most of it looked like cheap gold necklaces that the poorer gangsters liked to wear.  Michael looked at his selection of two rings.  There was one with a gold band and a chip that may have been a diamond, and then a yellowish band with something that could have been a decent sized diamond if Michael believed for second it was real.  He sighed.

“How much for that one?” he asked, pointing to the bigger stone.

“Oh, this one so nice.”  The man opened the cabinet and held it out for Michael to inspect, but he wouldn’t let him take it from him.  “I just get two day ago.  So pretty.  Good quality.  Best ring in store.”

“Unh-hunh.  How much?”

“Five hundred.”

Michael balked.  “Five hundred dollars?!  Are you kidding me?”

“Is real di’mond!  No fake!  Pay good price.  Gold band too.”

Michael shook his head.  “No way.  Try again.”

“Sir.  Is good ring.”

“Right.  And you want to sell it, right?  Try again.”

“Okay.  I see you are good bijiness man.  I give to you for four fifty.”

“One hundred,” Michael countered, knowing he was getting ripped off.

“One hundred!  Peh!”  The man started to put the ring back in the case.  “You try to cheat me!  No cheat!”

Michael glanced at his watch again.  He had to go.  Right now.  “Okay, okay.  I’ll give you two fifty.  Half price.”

“Bah.”

Michael started to walk away.

“Okay, okay!  Come back, sir!  You good at deal making.  I like that.  You can have.”

Michael started to get out his wallet.

“For three hundred.”

Michael nearly lost his eyeballs up in his head.  He muttered to himself as he opened his wallet and pulled out a credit card.

“This pawn shop, sir.  You pay cash.”

Michael looked at the crazy Asian man.

“Are you serious?”

The man gave him a “do I look like I’m kidding?” look.  Michael jammed the card back into its slot and looked in the cash pocket.  He counted through his fifties.  He snarled at his wallet and pulled out his emergency hundred he kept tucked away behind his license and surrendered it along with four fifties to the man.

“I assume that covers the tax as well?”

“Oh, yes.  Is fine.”  The man snatched the money away and placed the ring on the counter top.  He walked away to go put his extorted prize in his register.  Michael waited for him to come back, but he started to work on the stereo again.

“Um, don’t I get a box?”

“Fifty dollar more,” the man said, not looking up from his work.

Michael grabbed the ring off the counter and stomped out of the store.  At least this would make a good story to tell his children one day.  As he left the store he started at the buzzing sound again and tripped over a cat.  The cat squalled almost as loudly as he did and Michael dropped the ring.  It bounced a couple of times and then rolled to the left down a very narrow alley.  The cat he’d tripped over hissed at him and crouched on the ring.  Michael went to shoo it away, but it hissed so vehemently and gave such a vicious swipe of its paw that he retreated.  Michael growled at the thing.  He didn’t have time for this.  He’d almost worked up enough courage to attack the cat when it suddenly began to lick the ring.  Michael shook his head and leapt forward.

“No, NO!”

He grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck, but he could tell the ring had already been swallowed.  The cat flipped out.  It began to scream and holler and struggle in his grasp.  Michael almost let it go, but the ring was still in it.  He fought to keep his grip on the caterwauling demon and got his wrist scratched bloody in the process.

Why was he bothering to fight with the thing?  It had completely swallowed the ring.  The cheap piece of crap ring.  Why did he care?  Because he’d been suckered out of $300 for it and he refused to propose without a ring…no matter how crappy it may be.  He glanced around.  What was he going to do?  Kill the cat and cut it open with his pocket knife?  Well, that wasn’t even an option because he’d left his knife on the dresser this morning.  Then the only fortuitous thing (at least he thought so at the time) in his day happened.  He saw a rundown sign for an animal hospital on the corner.  By now the cat had stopped wrenching itself around like a hooked marlin, and only every now and then spasmed side to side.  But it kept up a constant, menacing growl.  Michael walked slowly and carefully down the sidewalk, praying that the vet was still open.

At first he thought it had been closed and abandoned for years, but then he saw the sign that said “Open.”  Michael took a chance and pushed on the weathered door.  It stuck for a moment and then jerked open.  The cat let out a yowl, but there was no one around to look up in surprise.  The front desk was empty and so was the waiting room, but the lights were on.  Michael stepped in warily, worried that maybe he’d come across a crack den.

“H-hello?  Is anyone here?”

“Just a moment!” someone called from the back.  Michael walked up to the desk and put the cat down to rest his arm, but maintained a firm grip on its scruff.  The cat’s claws skittered over the countertop as it attempted to run away.  After several minutes Michael called out again.  Finally a middle aged man wearing stained scrubs walked into the room.  He raised an eyebrow at the unhappy cat and then looked at Michael.

“Can I help you?”

“Please tell me you can.  This cat swallowed my fiancée’s engagement ring and I need to get it out.”

The man laughed.  “I see.  Well.  If you wait a few hours it’ll come out on its own.”

“But I don’t have that kind of time.  I need it now.  Can’t you just cut it open?  I can pay for the anaesthesia or euthanasia costs, whichever it has to be.”

“But, sir.  Your cat—”

“It’s not mine.  It’s a stray.”

“Well, you don’t know that for sure.  I can’t kill someone else’s cat just for a ring.  I can’t cut it open either.”

“Okay.  It’s my cat.  I don’t care if you kill it.  Just, get me the ring back.”

The man pursed his lips.  “Sir, I can’t perform major surgery on an animal for something that will resolve itself naturally.”

Michael gritted his teeth.  “But I need it now.  I have to go.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Isn’t there some way to speed up the natural process?  Can’t we give it something to make it throw up?”

“Well, that could be kind of dangerous for it to hack up something sharp like that.  It might get stuck in its throat or tear it in some way.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

The vet frowned at him.  “I can give the cat a laxative.  Speed the process up that way.”

“Great.  Let’s do that.  Can you take this thing from me now before it tries to kill me?”

“Well, can you blame it?  You were trying to kill it.”

The vet started to take the cat, but it hissed at him too.  It escaped Michael’s grasp and ran off the counter.  It searched for an exit and when it couldn’t find one hid in a corner and growled at them.  The vet had to go find some thick leather gloves and a contraption that looked like what they used to catch snakes on Animal Planet.  Finally the cat was more or less controlled and stuck in a box.  The vet tried to get the cat to eat the laxative, but it was too upset to touch the food.

“Well,” the vet said, hands on hips, “it appears he’s not in the mood to eat.  Let’s leave him alone a little while and let him calm down.  Then maybe he’ll be hungry enough to eat something.”

Michael chewed on his bottom lip to keep from saying anything.  This was ridiculous.  Why couldn’t the man just slice it open?  No, what was ridiculous was him taking the trouble to get the piece of crap ring back in the first place.  While they waited for the cat to eat the laxative laced food, the vet made Michael fill out about ten forms even though the damn cat wasn’t even his.  He had a feeling he was going to be spending another chunk of change here too.  This was unbelievable.  What had he done to piss off the Universe lately?  He glanced at his watch.  He was just going to have to cancel his employee meetings.  He had to get over to the Sunshine shoot.  Considering how bad this day was going there was no way that was going well either.  The only thing he could possibly be grateful for was that he was sure Keane wouldn’t abandon the set until he got there.  And he had enough sense to keep the thing from falling totally apart.

“Oh, look,” the vet said excitedly as he peeked through a back door.  “He’s eating it.”

“Great.  So…how long till it comes out?  Five, ten minutes?”

“Ah, spoken like a man with faithful bowel movements.”  Michael raised an eyebrow.  “Laxatives take at least 30 minutes to take effect.  Could be longer.”

Michael growled to himself again and plopped down in the one of the waiting room chairs.  He picked up a two year old copy of _Reader’s Digest_ and read a story about a mother and daughter who had come to terms regarding the daughter’s dating rights.  Dating rights?  Feh.  If he ever had a daughter she wouldn’t be able to start dating until he was dead.

After a very stressing and mind-numbing forty-five minutes, the cat started to get the squirts.  The vet watched over the cat carefully, like it would die if it had a little diarrhea.  Michael decided to wait back by the front desk as the cat yowled its discomfort at what could only be assumed was a very unpleasant burning sensation.

“Oh.  There it is.”

Michael walked around the counter and peeked into the room.  The cat was squatting and waving its butt around.  There was a runny pile of foul smelling cat doo in its cage.  And in the depths of that pile was the hint that a solid ring-shaped item was present.  Michael looked at the vet.  He looked back at him.

“Get it,” Michael said.

“You saw that cat before.  I’m not reaching in there now that he’s really pissed off.”

Michael let out a deep breath.  “Fine.  Can you at least get me a bowl of bleach or something?  I’ll get it out.”

The vet made an amused face, but did what he was told.  Michael pulled on the elbow length leather glove and picked up a pair of forceps.  He leaned over the cage.  The cat screamed at him.   But that wasn’t why he backed off.  The funk of the cat shit was just unnatural.  He took a deep breath and held it as he stepped back over the cage.  He reached his arm down into the space.  The cat attacked it.  The glove protected him from injury, but it was still freaky as hell.  Michael used the forceps to push around the greenish-brownish crap and found the ring.  He clamped onto it and pulled his arm back to safety.  He turned to the vet and dropped the ring into the bowl of cleaner in his hands.  He allowed himself to breathe again and hurriedly returned the lid to its closed and locked position over the cat.

“Um?  Sir?”

Michael turned to the vet.

“I think your ring is…bubbling.”

Michael stepped forward and looked in the bowl.  There was fizz rolling off the ring like it was boiling.  Michael reached in with the forceps and pulled it out.  He hurried to a sink and ran some cold water over it.  The vet joined him to look at it.  The “gold” plating was gone and all that remained was a greenish, corroded band.  The “diamond” apparently hadn’t even been a cubic zirconium.  Whatever it had been had completely lost its structural integrity and collapsed in on itself.  And best of all it had discolored to roughly the same shade as the pile of cat crap in had just been plucked from.  Michael sighed.  The vet looked at the ring and then at Michael.

“Wouldn’t it have just been easier to get another one out of the gumball machine?”

Michael looked at the ceiling and did his best to ignore the comment.  He put the ring in his hand and shook his head with a small, resigned smile.  Then he put it in his pocket and put the forceps down.

“Well, thanks for all your help, Doc.  I guess I’ll be on my way now.”

“Um, sir?”

“What?” Michael ground out, turning around slowly on his heel.

“Well, there is the matter of the cat.”

“What about it?”

“I can’t board it if it’s not yours.”

“It’s not mine.  Just put it back on the street.”

“Unfortunately I can’t do that.  And I don’t have the capacity to act as a shelter.”

“Don’t people bring strays in here?  Can’t you just turn it over to a shelter?”

“I need authorization from you since you signed a form accepting responsibility for it.”

“Fine, I’ll sign another form letting it go.”

“We’d need to do that with a representative from the shelter here.”

“Are you serious?”

The man nodded.

“Okay.  Fine.  The cat is mine.  Will you please board it for me tonight?  You know, keep it under observation.”

“There’s a hundred dollar boarding fee.”

Michael worked his jaw as he stared at the man.  The vet did pretty well not to wilt under his glare.

“Put it on my bill then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Michael turned to leave and hissed at the cat on his way out the door.  He looked at his watch and let out a string of words he hadn’t used since he’d woken up thirty minutes late for a final in college.  He might have enough time to stop by the Sunshine shoot, but he had no time to correct any problems they might be having.  Hopefully Keane had everything under control.

 

Maya was sucking on her lips so hard it was painful, but she didn’t want to laugh at her poor baby.  He did look miserable.  She was holding on pretty well until he looked at her with sad, pathetic eyes.  She let out a braying laugh and then quickly covered her mouth, trying not to let all the other patrons who turned her way know that had been her.  She continued to snicker behind her hand.  Michael just looked cutely devastated.  She reached out a hand to him.

“Oh, baby.  Hee, hee.  I’m so—so, ha.  So sorry.  That sounds terrible.”

“It _was_ terrible!”  He took her hand and looked apologetically at her.  “I’m sorry this is all I have for you.  I wanted everything to be perfect.  I wanted a beautiful ring.  I wanted—”  he stopped.  He wasn’t sure how to apologize for Matthew.  Or if he even wanted to.

“Where did you get the box?” Maya snickered.

“It’s the one I keep my class ring in.”

“Ah.  I see you tried to class it up for me.  I really appreciate it.”

Michael groaned and ducked his head.  Maya squeezed his hand.

“I mean it.  I appreciate everything you did for me today.  I love you very much.  You treat me better than I deserve.”

Michael looked appalled.  “You deserve better than that!” he declared, indicating the deconstructed ring.

“For crying out loud, Michael.  You got me a _Tiffany_ engagement ring.”  Her eyes lit up.  “You _really_ got me a Tiffany engagement ring?”

“Yeah.  I can show you a picture when we get home.  Or you can go through them and pick out something different if you want something else.”

Maya shook her head, her eyes brimming tears that the love in her heart had overflowed with.  “I don’t want anything else.  This,” she said, holding up her ring, “is what I want.  Of course I’ll marry you.”  She slid the ring on her left ring finger.

Michael tried to hold back his grimace.  Maya had just heard the story, but she hadn’t actually seen the pile that ring had been expelled with.  If she had she might be more hesitant to be in the same room with it.  Then it occurred to him what the gesture meant, and what she had said.  He looked at her green flecked hazel eyes and smiled.

“You said you’ll marry me.”

“I said ‘of course I’ll marry you.’  Did you really have any doubt?”

“Finally,” Michael sighed, taking her hand in both of his and laying his cheek on it, “something went right today.”

 

Maya tried not to be so girly in her giggling, but she couldn’t help it.  She was ecstatic that she was engaged and Michael’s lips were tickling her neck as much as they were arousing her.  She half-heartedly pushed her fiancé—gah! her _fiancé_ —away and hoped the cab driver wouldn’t pull over and kick them out.  Michael circled her wrist with his long fingers and pulled her hand off his leg.

“Don’t put that kitty shit ring on me,” he teased her with his words while his hand teased her elsewhere.

“Oh, shut-up!  I love my ring.  And don’t—oh, God.  Don’t stop.”

Michael kissed Maya on the lips.  Every time he did it, even from the very first time, he always got a rush.  It just seemed that he was so unworthy to have someone like her love him.  It was a small miracle to him when he got to kiss her and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him back.  He moved back to her neck.  Here was nice too.

“Mmm.  I wanna call Drew and tell her, but I’m afraid it will just bum her out,” Maya laughed softly.  “Oh, and I have to tell my mother.  She was so worried I would never get married because I was into all that sciency stuff.”

“Okay,” Michael said, moving down to her shoulder.  “Tell your mom, but not your dad.”

“Oh, definitely not my dad.  He hates you.”

Michael sat up and gave her an unhappy look.  She laughed at his cuteness and kissed the petulant frown off his face.

“Don’t worry.  I’m sure you’ll grow on him.  Especially after my sister brings home her tattooed and pierced boyfriend.  A ‘swaggery big city fellow’ won’t seem so bad then.”

“Great.”

The cab screeched to a halt in front of Michael’s building.  He pulled out his wallet and was grateful he had one last fifty left to pay the fare.  He handed it to the driver and told him Maya’s address.

“You go on ahead and I’ll be there shortly.”

Maya shook her head, a small, confused smile on her face.  “What?  I don’t understand.”

“We can go to your place, right?  You head there now and I’ll be along in only a few minutes.”

He kissed her and started to get out, but she pulled him back.

“Um.  Drew isn’t going out tonight.  I thought we could stay at your place.”

“Yeah, that was the original plan, but then…Anyway.  Maybe we should stay at a hotel tonight?  Where would you like to go?  You can go there instead and I’ll catch up to you.”

“Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not at all.  I just.  Want to check on Matthew.  And then I’ll be right over.”

Maya let her breath out slowly.  She didn’t want to just fly into an irrational rage.  For one thing, she had committed herself to Michael and was going to have to take the bad with the good now…and that meant dealing with Matthew.  For another thing, if she and Michael got into a fight now it would ruin their night.  She really didn’t want that.  She was too happy.  She took Michael’s hand.

“Do you really think he’s still up there?”

“Of course.  Where else would he be?”

Maya looked at the cab driver.  He quickly looked away from the rear view mirror like he hadn’t been listening to them.  Maya pushed gently on Michael and told the driver to wait as they got out of the car.  She shut the door and passed a hand over her brow.

“He’s probably not there because he’s already ripped you off by now.  Sold everything you had of worth in the apartment, bought some drugs, and is half way to Oompa Loompa Land by now.”

Michael didn’t get angry.  He just shrugged.  “Maybe.  But I wanna see that for myself.  I have to check or I will worry all night.  And I won’t be able to…” he pulled Maya close.  “Concentrate.”  He smiled down at her and she had to smile back.  “So, I’ll run go check.  And then we can forget about him.”

Maya worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she looked at Michael.  Then she stepped out of his embrace and opened the car door.

“You can leave now.  Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” the man said and sped off.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

“I want to see for myself too.  Let’s go.”

Michael looked like he was about to protest, but then took her by the hand and led her to his building door.  The doorman he liked the least let them in without making some cheesy, unwanted comment—a rare event.  Michael tried to keep a calm face on as they took the elevator to his floor, but he was worried about what they might find in the apartment.  He didn’t want Maya to be right.  He didn’t believe she was right, but Michael had believed in his brother before.  And been sorely disappointed.  His hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the door.  It swung open silently.  They waited at the doorstep and listened to the dark, quiet room.  Michael stepped forward and flipped on the light.  There was his apartment, the same as it ever was.  Meaning it felt empty.  Was he gone?

Michael quickly passed through the living room and the open kitchen.  Both were obviously empty so he headed straight for the bedroom.  Maybe he was sleeping.  Or in the bathroom.  Maya watched Michael’s shoulder tense as he disappeared into the bedroom.  She closed the door behind her and walked around the living room.  The obvious things like the TV and DVD player were still there, but so were the iPod speakers that were tucked back into a corner.  The iPod was even still docked in it.  She headed into the kitchen.  Nothing looked out of place.  Michael appeared in the bedroom doorway and leaned against the frame.  He rubbed his forehead and looked the saddest she’d seen him in months.

“Is he there?” she asked.

“No,” he said wearily, dropping his hand to his side.  “He left.”

“See?” she said softly, but refrained from saying “I told you so.”

“But nothing’s missing.  He didn’t take anything.  Not even the money I ‘hid’ on the dresser for him to find.”

Maya gaped at her new fiancé.  “You left money for him?”

Michael wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“You’re his enabler.  You know that, right?”

Michael shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Michael, this has to stop.  _You_ have to stop this.  You’re making him worse!”

“I know!” Michael cried out, hating her words all the more because they were true.  “But I can’t—turn away from him.  I can’t send him away!”  He moved into the room to be closer to Maya, pleading with his eyes for her to understand why he was being so stupid about this one thing.  “He’s my little brother!  I can’t _not_ help him!”

“But you’re helping him the wrong way.  You need to put him in rehab.”

“It’s not that easy.”

Maya sighed and stepped away from him.  Then she saw the spice rack on the wall over the stove.  She turned back to face him.  He had moved away from her as well, toward the door.

“Did you only check for money?  What about the medicine cabinet?”

“There’s nothing in there but Ibuprofen and you can’t get high off of that.”

“No.  But he could have crushed it up and tried to pass it off as some other kind of drug to sell it.”

“Are you—” Michael cut off.  “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ what?”

Michael stood by the table next to his front door.  “My set of spare keys is gone.”

Maya hoped she’d misheard him.  “What?  He took your spare keys?!”

“Well, not necessarily.  They’re just…missing,” he finished lamely.

“Oh, that’s just great, Michael.  You know what he did with them?  He probably sold them on the street so that _they_ can come back and rob the place!  You need to call a locksmith.  Right now.  Say it’s an emergency.”

Michael rolled his eyes a little and walked over to Maya.  “Matt wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips and pursing her lips.

“I just know my brother, okay?”

Maya felt a surge of anger and fear.  Michael was going to get hurt because he loved his stupid brother too much.  “You know the person who your brother _used_ to be.  Who he is now—drug addicts are never the person they once were.  Don’t you get it?  He’s gone.  He’s not coming back until the next time he needs some sap to give him money.”

Michael wanted to reassure her somehow.  He didn’t want her to be afraid of his brother.  His response did little to accomplish that.

“Maybe so.”

“Maybe so?  _Maybe so?_   And you’re okay with that?!  You’d allow that strung out thief to enter the home you share with your wife?  What if we have children one day?  Can ‘Uncle Matt’ just drop by whenever he feels like it?!”

Michael’s heart was breaking.  Maya was right.  He needed to protect her.  He needed to open his eyes and do something about Matthew.  But he couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate.

“I thought you didn’t want children,” he mumbled.

“Well, I don’t.  Or, I mean.  I don’t know for sure.  I—that’s not the point!  God!  I hate your brother, okay?”  Maya couldn’t believe she was saying this.  She was going to lose Michael if she didn’t shut-up, but she couldn’t take this anymore.  “I love you so much, Michael, but I really hate him and I don’t want him anywhere near us!”

“Um.”  They both started at the soft interjection.  “Maybe I should come back later.”

They both turned toward the door.  Matthew stood at the entrance wearing the clothes Michael had lent him and his hair fluffed up from air drying after his shower.  In one hand he held a grocery bag, and the missing keys in the other.  Michael took a couple, unthreatening steps forward.

“Matt, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just got a craving for Fruity Pebbles.  And all you have is soy milk.  I got some real stuff.”  He indicated his bag and watched them carefully as he put the keys back in the bowl on the table.  He could tell from the look on Michael’s face that he wasn’t angry with him.  So, he needed to deal with _her_.  He turned toward Maya.  And tried not to add to the tension by raking his eyes over his brother’s girlfriend.  But it wasn’t his fault she was wearing a short dress with a cut that showed off how perfectly real her breasts were.  She had her arms crossed under her stomach, which only emphasized them more.  That softness was sharply contrasted by the stony look on her face.  He glanced at Michael; his brother didn’t appear to be wearing _too_ much of Maya’s lipstick.

“How did you pay for that?” Maya snipped, getting his attention again.

“I found a ten in my pocket.”

She partially rolled her eyes and turned to Michael.  “Did you fully count that ‘hidden’ stack?”

“Yes.  It was all there.”

Matthew shut the door and looked at his well-meaning brother.

“I left that out for you,” he said quietly.

Matthew walked to the far side of the free standing kitchen counter, away from Maya, and put the bag down.

“I know.  I didn’t want it.  I may be a strung out thief…”  He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.  “And I am.  But I wouldn’t steal from my brother.”

He gave Maya a pointed look.  If anything she looked even angrier.

“Okay, one,” she said indicating her first point with a finger, “is it really any better that’s there’s _one_ person you won’t steal from?  And two, I don’t believe you.  I’d sooner believe you’d kill Michael to get what you wanted if your jones was hard enough.”

Maya’s heart missed a beat at the fury that flashed through Matthew’s eyes.  He took a step in her direction.

“I would _never_ —”

Maya flinched away from him.  Matthew stopped moving, realizing he’d seriously scared her.  Michael took a step forward to intervene, but couldn’t decide which one he should go to.  He put his hands out, one toward both of them.

“Okay, okay.  Let’s all just settle down.  Matt, fix your Fruity Pebbles and Maya, you’ll feel more comfortable if you change into something else.  And then we can all sit down and talk—”

“Michael!!”

Michael winced away from both of them.  Their tones had been eerily similar.  He looked back and forth between them.  They were looking back and forth between him and each other.  Nobody moved.  Nobody spoke.  It was a Mexican standoff without any guns.

There was a knock at the door.  The air was so thick the sharp noise sounded muddy to Michael’s ears.  The interruption both worried and relieved him.  He really didn’t want anyone else to be privy to this very personal matter, but it sure was nice to have some sort of escape from it.  No matter how temporarily.  He’d always thought he’d be able to avoid the confrontation between his brother and girlfriend, but Matt was finally sober enough to have a lucid fight.

Michael turned away from them and let them continue to stare each other down.  Or maybe they were glaring at him now if that itchy spot on that back of his neck was any indication.  And he was so grateful for the person knocking on his door that he didn’t even consider that this was out of the norm.  He certainly didn’t have friends who would ever just “drop by.”  Not that they could with a doorman on duty.  As unlikely as it may be, it must be a neighbor.  Either that or someone who had skirted in with another resident.  Michael opened the door.

He forgot there was anyone else present in the room.  At that particular moment, he forgot anyone else existed in the world.  He stared openly at the person on his doorstep.  He easily recognized him even though he looked much different than he had in college.  He certainly hadn’t gotten any taller and topped out around 5’8”, but he seemed a little thinner and harder with muscle.  His skin now had a decidedly lives-at-the-beach tan and his very short hair was bleached to a white-blonde.  But those eyes were definitely his.  Stormy grey and always glinting like they knew your darkest secret.

“Luc.”

His name was barely a whisper on his shocked lips.  It was bizarre saying his name after all these years.  Even though he said the name “Luke” all the time at work, this was different.  It felt different; it had a different meaning when it referred to this man.  Michael continued to stare at him.  He just stared back.  Then Michael smiled.  He was rewarded with that cute, playful smile he remembered quite well.

“Hi,” Michael said, repressing a laugh.

“Hi.”

There was some more staring.

“Um.  Hi.”

Michael turned in surprise.  That noise had come from behind him.  And then he saw Maya.  And Matthew.  And then he remembered the situation they’d just been in.  Not good.  But a little avoidance never hurt anyone.  He turned back to the door and gestured for the man to enter.

“Please, come in.”

“Thanks,” he said.

He walked in and Michael noticed for the first time that he carried a small grey duffle bag and a medium sized black bag shaped like a square.  They moved closer to the kitchen and Michael now stood equidistant between all three of his guests.

“Um.  You remember my brother, Matt.  Right?”

The man looked Matthew over and raised an eyebrow as he played with the gum in his mouth.  “Well, yes I do.  I’ll just take your word for it that that’s him.”

Matthew let out an offended noise and gave him a displeased look.

“And,” Michael said, stepping closer to Maya, “this is Maya Krakowski.  My fiancée.”

“Since when?” Matthew burst out incredulously.

“Since tonight,” Michael growled softly with a glower for his brother.

“Ohhh.  Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” the man said, getting their attention.  “Congratulations.”

Matthew searched the unexpected visitor's face to see if he really meant it.  His expression was unreadable.  He looked at his brother.  His was too full of emotion to interpret anything.

“Thank you,” Michael said.  He turned to Maya and took her hand to bring her a step closer to the mystery person.  Well, a mystery to her anyway.  “This is LA,” he introduced them.

Maya smiled and reached out a hand to the petit, pretty boy.  “Hello.  Nice to meet you.  But, LA?  I thought Michael called you Luc?”  She looked back and forth between them.

“Y-yeah, I did.”  Michael almost looked panicked.  “I did call him that.  But, you know, he.  He, um…”

“I go by LA,” he said, shaking Maya’s hand.

LA thought she had a firm grip and Maya thought his hand was cold.

“Oh,” she said, trying to get any kind of conversation going should the earlier tension suddenly rise up.  “So, like Los Angeles, huh?”

“No, not really,” he said flatly.

“Oh.”  Maya wondered if she’d offended him.

“Well,” Matthew drawled, getting a bowl out of the cabinet and starting to open his box of cereal.  “L.A. does stand for something.  And so does your name.  So, _technically_ , it is like the same thing.”

LA returned Matthew’s earlier displeased look.  “Yeah, that’s Matt all right.”

Michael chuckled and Matthew just made a face at him as he poured the cereal.

“So, wow,” Michael said, looking LA over.  “It’s been, what, seven years?”

“Almost eight, buddy.  You’re closer to 29 than you want to admit.”

Michael smiled at his old friend.  He always was an ass.

“Wait, you’re the same age?” Maya asked softly, looking back and forth between the two men.  LA looked like he was a mature fifteen.  _Or maybe 20,_ she conceded to herself.

“So, what brings you here?” Michael asked LA, not hearing Maya’s question.

“Yes, they’re the same age,” Matthew said pouring milk onto his Fruity Pebbles.

“Actually, how did you even find me?” Michael wondered aloud.  “We…lost touch after school.  And I moved around.  A lot.”

LA pulled out a folded up sheet of paper from his back jeans pocket and flicked his wrist to snap it open.  “Et-hmm.  There are nine Michael Ellisons living in New York City.  And another 23 M. Ellisons.  I eliminated the ones with different middle initials and then organized them by the probability of neighborhoods you would live in.  You’re my fourth stop tonight.”  He folded the paper up and tucked it back into his pocket.  “I honestly thought it would take longer to find you, but then, you still are a little predictable.”

Michael and LA smiled at each other.

“Or then again,” LA continued, “it could just be serendipitous good fortune.”

“So…you went through all that trouble just to find me?”

“Tch.  Don’t be so full of yourself.  I got hired for a short-term job out here.  Tris, you remember Tristan, right?”

Michael felt his eye twitch involuntarily.  He remembered Tristan.

“He said he’d heard you were living in New York City, so I decided to try to find you when I got here…so I could crash on your couch for three nights?”

He flashed his sweetest most angelic smile.  It worked nine times out of ten on Michael.  And being hit with it after nearly eight years of reprieve left Michael helpless under its power.  LA saw this, but decided to milk it anyway.

“I’m totally broke.  I used the last of my money just to buy the bus ticket out here.”

“Bus ticket?” Matthew snorted.  He’d always been impervious to the smile.  “Where’d you come from?  Queens?”

“San Diego.”

“Whoa,” was Michael’s response.

“Exactly,” LA agreed.  “I’m dead tired and about to die.  And I really don’t want to stay in a skeezy hotel with all my equipment.”

“You still into that scene?” Matthew quipped around his cereal.

LA looked like he would have thrown something at him if he’d had anything handy.

“Oh!  So you did make it as a photographer,” Michael said, happy for his friend.

LA shrugged.  “Well, we’ll see how tomorrow goes.  If they like my stuff, they might recommend me to someone else, but pretty much…this is my last ditch effort.”

Michael shook his head.  “I can’t believe that.  You’re so talented!”

“Artistic photography doesn’t always sell.  And I’m no good at print ads.”

“I disagree.  I think you would be just as amazing doing commercial shoots.”

“Yeah, well…”

Matthew watched the scene unfolding in front of him.  Michael and LA looked like two people who’d just been thrust into a time and place they were unfamiliar with and Maya just looked confused.  LA recovered first.

“So, um, can I stay here?  Ole buddy, ole pal?”

“Oh, yeah, sure!  Of course you can stay.”

“Hey!”

The three men looked at Maya after her outburst.  Matthew tried to crunch quietly on his cereal.  He wondered if it was going to be dinner and a show.

“Um.”  Maya swallowed thickly as Michael and his friend looked at her.  She hadn’t meant to shout out like that, but she was suddenly feeling superfluous.  She wondered what she could do to try to smooth it over.  “I, uh—I just realized that you’re the guy I met on the subway today.”  And it did just hit her.  She recognized that ugly green jacket now.  He was just missing the skull cap.

“Oh, really?” LA asked politely.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t remember you.”

“Yeah.  You were insulting Michael’s advertisement.”  She wondered why she felt a little satisfaction in delivering that news.

“Which one?” Michael asked with a little laugh.

“Ugh, you’re doing ad work?” LA faux-sneered.  “Sell out.”

Michael shrugged.  “Are you surprised?”

“No.”

“The Sketchers one,” Maya answered him, trying to put herself back in the conversation.

Michael put a hand to his chin as he thought about it.  “Ohhh.  Yeah.  That one is bad.”

“I noticed,” LA said.

They grinned at each other.  Matthew tried to keep his smile minimal as he watched Maya get irritated at Michael’s automatic ease with this stranger.  If this simple banter was bothering her she was in for a real treat when they sat down and started chattering.  He’d never heard such aimless pointless babble in all his life like the conversations those two carried on.

“Well, _I_ like it,” Maya mumbled, feeling childish as she did so.

Michael smiled at his pouting fiancée.  He threw his arms around her from the side and squeezed her tight.

“Thank you, sweetie.  I appreciate your support.  I knew you’d make the perfect wife.”  He kissed her temple.

Matthew snorted to keep from puking.  Michael and Maya gave him dirty looks.  He pointedly ignored them and read the nutrition facts on the side of the cereal box.

“So,” LA said as he dropped his bags off by the couch.  “From the look of this place it’s just a one bedroom, right?”

“Yep,” Michael chirped a little too happily as he continued to hug his fiancée.

“You’re not very successful at ads, are you?”  He looked at Maya.  “Are you sure you want to marry this bum?”

Maya laughed and Michael let go of her to face off with his friend.

“I just haven’t moved since my _promotion_.  That’s all.  And besides!  Do you have any idea what the rent is like even for a one bedroom on the Upper West Side?”

“Couldn’t afford the Upper East Side?”

Michael opened his mouth, but was trying so carefully to put together his scathing reply that nothing came out.

“Chill, chill.  I get it,” LA waved a dismissive hand.  “You’re rich.  So, you better have a comfortable couch.”

“Ah—”  Michael hated it when he changed gears like that.  There was no sense in yelling at him now.  “It’s not bad.”

“Good,” LA said matter-of-factly.  “I wouldn’t want you to get a crick in your back.”

“Wha?!”  Michael marched over to his friend.  “You’re on it!” he said, pointing a commanding finger at the blue microfiber couch.

“Uh!” LA whined.  “I’m a _guest_.  Company gets the bed.”

“Nooo, you’re a mooch.  Mooches get the couch.”

“ _Excuse me_!  There is a two week minimum stay before you can start throwing the ‘m’ word around!”

“Yeah, well, I know you.  Three days will be three months.”

Maya felt a little trepidation.  Would LA really try to stay that long?  And would Michael let him?  LA had backed down from their play fight.  He just gave a little half-smile.

“No, seriously, Michael.  It’s three days and that’s it.  Unless by some miracle they love me tomorrow and book me for the next three months, I’ve got no reason to stay.  I kind of gave up on the whole photography thing.  I mean, I still do it as a hobby, but I haven’t put out any new applications or portfolios in over a year.  This job—I applied there randomly two years ago.  I was really surprised when they called me up last week.  And I—I just couldn’t say no.  So, I decided to come out here and do it just this once.  And then…I’m going back home.  To San Diego.”

“O-oh.”

Michael felt suddenly disappointed.  Without realizing he was doing it, he’d already gotten himself excited for spending time with him again.  And now that that was no longer an option, he felt sad.  And a little regret.  Not unlike the feeling the dream he’d had that morning had given him.  But, maybe it was for the best that LA would leave as suddenly as he appeared.

“I see.”  He saw Maya out of the corner of his eye and wondered if she was thinking he was acting weird around this person.  He shook off the feeling of sadness and reverted back to his standby smile.  “Well.  You’re still on the couch.”

“We could always share the bed,” LA suggested.

There was a loud choking sound.  Michael, LA, and Maya all turned to look at Matthew.  He was coughing and thumping his chest, trying to dislodge Fruity Pebbles from his lungs.  LA strolled closer to him.

“What?  Can’t two grown men share a bed without other grown men reacting like a 13 year old?”

“Well, maybe,” Matthew coughed out, finally clearing his air passage.  He leaned forward on the counter and smiled unpleasantly at the small man.  “But knowing your history so well I certainly wouldn’t hop into bed with you.”

LA leaned his arms on the counter and mimicked Matthew’s smile.  “Well, if you really know my history so well I’m sure you’d figure out that you’re the second to last man I would ever sleep with at this point in my life.”

Maya blinked at this conversation.  Was she missing something?  Because it kind of seemed like LA was gay.  And if he was, it didn’t appear to be news to Matthew.  She looked at her fiancé.  Or Michael either.  How long had it been since they’d seen each other?  Seven, almost eight years?  That would have put them in undergraduate school together.

“Testy, testy,” Matthew grinned.  “ _I_ didn’t break your heart.”

LA stood up and seemed to have completely dismissed Matthew and their conversation.  “Fortunately I’ve lived my life heartbreak free,” he brazenly declared, using a hand to flip his non-existent shoulder length hair.

“Really?  That’s hard to believe.”

Maya hadn’t meant to say that out loud.  But she meant it.  It seemed highly unlikely that a 28 year old had never experienced a little heartache.  LA was examining her closely.  She might have thought he was checking her out, but if he was gay, he was looking her over for a different reason.  She actually felt like she was being appraised for her worth.  Finally he responded to her.

“It’s not that hard to believe,” LA said nonchalantly.  “Not everyone falls in love, you know?  And if they do, when it ends, it’s not always a bad thing.”

Maya felt her brow crease in disagreement, but she didn’t really have anything to contradict his theory with.  It was just doubtful that a person would go their whole life having never loved somebody.  Unless they were a sociopath.  Michael surprised her by suddenly kissing her forehead.

“You’re so cute when you think hard.”

Matthew and LA snickered.  She made a noise of mock offense, but wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him.  He hugged her back and might have been leaning down to kiss her, but he got distracted by his friend’s movements.

“Hey!  Where are you going?  Seriously.  I’m putting you on the couch.”

LA paused in the bedroom door.  “But.  You got engaged tonight, right?  Aren’t you gonna do it?”

Maya blushed hot.  She could hear Matthew sniggering off to her left.

“Go to her place.”

“She has a roommate,” Michael said in a normal voice.  She couldn’t believe he wasn’t blushing too.  Then again, he was a guy.

LA’s eyes flickered in mild annoyance as he stepped away from the door and crossed the kitchen.  “So go to a hotel,” he said, opening the refrigerator and peeking inside.

“You’re kicking me out of my own home?” Michael asked with a little incredulity, turning so that he could face his friend but still keep Maya in the half-embrace of one arm.

“Ooo.  Such manly beers,” he said giving Michael an exaggerated macho look.  “I’m doing you a favor,” he continued as he stuck his whole front half in the refrigerator to dig around inside.  Maya thought he was feeling a little too at home even if he was an old friend.  There were clinking noises as he moved things around.  “I mean, I assume you took her to a nice dinner.  You’ve had a wonderful evening.  That’s a total piece of crap ring you gave her, but it’s about the love, right?”

Matthew giggled some more as he put his bowl in the sink.  “Cheap!” he whispered loudly.

Michael had one eye narrowed at LA, but he pointed a finger at Matthew.  “You stay out of this.”

“Now, now,” LA said, momentarily turning away from the fridge to look at Matthew.  “Maybe his rent is too high for him to afford better.”

Now Matthew laughed outright.  LA gave Michael a little smirk and returned to his digging.  Maya sympathetically patted her honey’s hip.  She knew what it was like; she had four brothers.

“Ah-ha!” LA declared triumphantly and finally closed the refrigerator, revealing his prize of a Bacardi O drink.  Michael wondered how he’d known to look in the frickin’ vegetable crisper.

“So predictable,” LA laughed.

“You know,” Matthew said as he put his cereal bowl back into the cabinet.  Michael hoped he’d washed it.  “You’ve had a long-term girlfriend for quite a while now.  You could have just left those out and claimed they were hers.”

“Shush,” Michael snipped at his brother.  “And if I’m so predictable,” he said to LA, “where’s my bottle opener?”

“Aren’t those twist-off caps?” Matthew pointed out.

“No, no,” LA held out a hand.  “A challenge has been issued.”  He turned to face the interior of the kitchen.

“How many guesses does he get?” Maya asked.

“One,” LA and Michael said in unison.

Maya tilted her head up so she could look at Michael’s face.  He was watching his friend with a small smirk on his lips and the gleam of competitiveness in his eyes.  This was definitely a different side to him.  Michael could be very competitive, but never about trivial things.  The way he was reacting almost made it seem like this _wasn’t_ something trivial.  She turned her attention back to LA.  He was still examining the room.  Then he walked directly to a drawer, opened it, pulled out a bottle opener, and popped the top off his drink.  He smiled smugly at Michael as he took a sip and gave him a taunting waggle of the eyebrows.

“Jesus,” Michael let out softly.

Maya looked at him.  He’d turned his face away from all of them…and he was blushing.  The deep red flush was completely visible even through his darkish skin.  She’d never seen this extreme of a reaction from him before.

“What time is it anyway?” LA asked of no one in particular.

Matthew looked at the clock on the microwave.  “11:32.”

“Ugh.  My meeting is at 8:30.  And I’m not sleepy at all.  It took me three days to get here, but I’m still on California time.”

“I thought you said you were dead tired.”

“It’s not the same thing as being sleepy.”

“What’s the difference?” Matthew scoffed.

“There’s a _huge_ difference,” LA replied like it was obvious.

“A difference without a distinction.”

“Why does it bother you anyway?”

“Because…”  Matthew looked to his brother for help.  Maya was still clinging to him like cellophane.  He turned back to LA.  “ _Because_.  Things can be weird, but they have to make sense!”

Maya held back a disbelieving laugh and looked at Michael.  That sounded like a direct quote from him.  “So, who taught who to feel that way?” she asked.

Michael gave her a little shrug.  He seemed to have recovered from his earlier embarrassment.  LA was scowling as he looked at them both.

“I thought twins were supposed to be different,” he sniffed indignantly.

Michael and Matthew flashed the same smile.  Maya blinked in surprise.

“T-twins?”  She partially stepped out of Michael’s embrace to get a better look at him.  “You’re twins?”

“You didn’t know that?” LA asked, sipping his drink again.

She looked at him with a little irritation.  It bothered her that he acted so familiar with Michael.  He’d been gone out of his life for seven years.  He should be a stranger to him.  LA caught her look and toned down his derision.  But only a little.

“No, I didn’t know that,” she said.  She turned back to Michael.  “You never told me.  You just said he’s your ‘younger brother.’”

“Well, he is my younger brother.”

“Oh, by like thirty seconds.  Jesus,” Matthew groaned.

“A minute and thirty seconds,” his big brother corrected him.

“Oooo.”

“But, you never said anything,” Maya said, feeling awful that she didn’t know something like this about the man she claimed to love so much.

“Well,” Michael rubbed the back of his head, “we don’t talk about him much.”

Michael wasn’t blaming her, and she knew that, but she felt a twinge of guilt anyway.

“You really couldn’t tell?” LA asked.

Maya was already a little tired of him.  She looked back at him, but said nothing.

“I mean.  They’re not just twins.  They’re identical twins.”

“What?”  Maya shook her head.  Now that made no sense.  She looked back and forth between Michael and his brother.  Several times.  She supposed if Michael lost 15 pounds of muscle and five of fat, had yellow skin and limp hair…She looked at their eyes.  Even though Matthew’s were bloodshot, she could see it now.  They had the same deep blue eyes.  But, siblings could have the same eyes.  Did they really have the same face?  She looked back and forth a few more times.  She could sort of see it now.

“I don’t see him that often,” she grumped in her defense.  Michael rubbed her back soothingly.

“Do I really look that bad?” Matthew asked.

“Yes,” LA replied with no hesitation.

Matthew cut his eyes over to the tiny little annoyance.  “You know…I’m _so_ glad I dropped out of college when I did.  I wouldn’t have been able to survive four years of you.”  LA gave him a sparkly smile.  “I don’t know how you did it, Michael.”

Michael smiled.  “Who says I survived it?”

LA’s eyes lit up.  “So I get the bed?” he asked eagerly.

Michael sighed.  “Yeah.”

“Awesome!”  He put his drink down on the counter and started for the bedroom.  “I’m gonna go shower.  I haven’t bathed in three days.”

“And people think I’m gross,” Matthew said blithely.  They all gave him a look.  “Come on.  Can’t you people take a joke?”

“Oh, and Michael,” LA said as he passed by him, “I only have a suit and some work clothes with me, so I’m going to need to borrow something to sleep in.”

“Sure.  Anything you can find that won’t fall off your hips.”

“Oh, ha!  Ha, ha!”  LA held his side for a moment, and then cut off his fake laughter as he glared at Michael.  Then he disappeared inside the bedroom.

Maya worked her jaw a little bit.  “Well, he’s—” _Find a nice word, find a nice word…_ “Demanding.”

“Just like old times, eh, Mike?” Matthew smiled knowingly at his brother.  Maya wasn’t sure what it was he knew though.  Michael just ignored him.

“Let’s go to a hotel, okay?” he said, turning to Maya and taking her hands. 

“But—”

“But what?  Isn’t the point of getting engaged so that we can…”  He arched a naughty eyebrow.  “Celebrate?”

Maya rolled her lips in to hide her smile and tried not blush.  She flexed her fingers with his and opened her mouth to reply.

“Um.  Isn’t the point of getting engaged so that you can get married?”  They looked at Matthew.  “Either that or to get your girlfriend to stop nagging you for a year or so.”

Michael pointed a finger at him.  “Put your Fruit Loops up.”

“Fruity Pebbles, Michael.  Fruity Pebbles.”

“So sorry.  Fruity Pebbles.  Anyway,” he returned his attention to Maya.  “Where would you like to go?”

“Um.”  Maya wasn’t sure how to word this.  “Are you sure you want to just leave him here?”

At first he thought she was referring to Matthew, but her demeanor was a little too calm.  Then he remembered there was someone else in his apartment.

“Who, Luc?  Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Michael, I know he’s an old friend of yours, but you haven’t seen him in over seven years.”

“It could be a hundred years,” Michael shrugged.  “Luc wouldn’t steal from me.  Besides.  Even if he did take anything I would have let him have it anyway.  So what’s the difference?”

“That’s the difference between being given something and stealing it!” Maya said with a laugh.

“Not if he _knows_ I would have let him have it.”

“But—”

“Don’t bother,” Matthew said as he passed them on his way to the couch.  “Their relationship only makes sense to them.”

As much as it bothered her that Michael and LA did have a slightly bizarre relationship, it bothered her even more that Matthew knew more about it than she did.  She was distracted from watching Matthew make himself at home on the couch and pick up the TV remote by Michael shaking her hands.

“So…where do you want to go?”

She laced her fingers with his and pulled herself closer to him, allowing herself to get distracted.  “Anywhere?” she purred.

“Anywhere,” Michael replied, his pupils dilating slightly.  She’d been anticipating that response.  The pervert.

“Then let’s go to the Tribeca Grand.”

“No, no!” Matthew cried out.  “The Ritz Carlton!”

“I told you to stay out of this,” Michael said looking over his shoulder.

“Wait, does anyone else hear birds?”  Matthew looked around the room for a moment and then cheeped, “Cheap, cheap, cheap.”  He grinned at his snarling brother and returned to watching TV.

Maya lifted a hand and turned Michael’s face back toward her.  “The Tribeca Grand because it’s closer to work.”

“An excellent plan, my love.  I’ll just grab my toothbrush and a shirt for tomorrow and then we can stop by your place to get your stuff.  And then…”  He leaned down and kissed her lips.  “Off we go,” he said against them.

She could feel his smile on her lips and smiled back.  They kissed once, twice, and then Michael pulled himself away to go to the bedroom.

“What, no pajamas?” Matthew asked dryly.

“Won’t need ‘em,” Michael stated.

They grinned at each other.  Maya nearly lost her eyeballs outside of her head.  It _was_ the same damn face.  How had she not noticed before?  Michael had disappeared into the bedroom, and Matthew turned his head to look at her.  The grin was still mostly there.  She blushed.

During all this LA had been enjoying just standing under the hot spray of water.  It had been three days since he’d had a shower, but it had been three weeks since he’d had a _hot_ shower.  Maybe he should just move back in with Tris.  He was going to have to do _something_ after he got back from his little fantasy of playing professional photographer.  He was going to be evicted soon.  Unless his landlord had noticed that he’d been gone for a few days, then his meager belongings might already be out on the street.

LA sighed in self-disgust.  He’d also need Tris for the sex when he went back home as a horny monster.  He couldn’t believe he still wasn’t over Michael.  All it had taken was hearing him breathe his name like that…LA shivered in pleasure just remembering it.  No one had called him by his name in years.  Not since the last time Michael had the last day they’d seen each other.  He curled his hand into a fist and lightly hit his forehead twice.  How had he been so stupid as to fall for a straight guy?  Nearly eight years had passed without him once giving Michael a second thought.  Now eight minutes in his presence and he was all hopped up like a kangaroo on crank.

He had to admit to himself, Michael looked even better now than he had in college.  He was more muscular and had a stronger, more confident face.  His eyes were that crushingly deep blue he remembered, but now they had the sexy assuredness of a man who knew his place in the world.  God, he was sexy.  LA leaned back against the shower wall and let his hands slide slowly down his body.  What if he came in right now?  What if he walked in and said he wanted him and _had_ to have him right there on the bathroom floor?

“Luc?”

LA started at Michael’s voice and instinctively squished himself into the far corner of the shower.

“Y-yeah?”  LA gritted his teeth at how shaky his voice sounded.  He quietly cleared his throat and tried again.  “Yes?”

“I was just letting you know I was coming in to get my toothbrush.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

“I’m staying with Maya.”

 _I thought you might_ , LA groused to himself.

“Help yourself to any food you can find.  Or anything else for that matter just so that permission has been officially given.”

LA’s confusion was enough to make him stop staring at the floor and look out the fogged-up glass door.  “Eh?”

“Nothing,” Michael said with a laugh, his blurry figure closing the medicine cabinet.  “You can reset the alarm by the bed if you need to.”

“Thanks.”  _Just leave already._

“What time do you get off work tomorrow?”

LA crossed his arms and wanted to turn his back on him, but thought Michael might notice that.  “Um.  I don’t know.”

“I’ll leave my cell phone number on the counter.  Call me and we can arrange to have dinner together.”

“Okay.”  _Just go away.  You’re driving me nuts_.  “Have fun tonight.”

“Oh, I will,” Michael said with an evil little laugh.

LA rolled his eyes.  He had no one but himself to blame for that one.

“But don’t you have fun.  No jacking off in my bed, okay?”

“Wha?!  Go away, you jerk!”

Michael laughed and left the bathroom.

“Argh!”

LA snatched Michael’s shampoo and conditioner bottles off their shelf and switched their places.  Then he switched the sides of the shower rack that the razor and loofah hung from.  A loofah, huh?  Had Michael finally crossed that vanity barrier that would make him a metrosexual?  Then he saw the Herbal Essences shampoo.  Girl shampoo.  And the lid was messy, which meant it definitely wasn’t Michael’s.  She stayed over often enough that she needed to keep her own shampoo around.  Well, that made sense.  They’d been together long enough that she was his fiancée now.  LA shook his head at his own lameness.  Why was he surprised Michael had a fiancée?  If anything he should be surprised he wasn’t already married.  Michael had always talked about how he wanted to get married one day.

LA kicked the tiled wall in front of him.  “Well, congratulations.”

Michael shouldered his bag and glanced back toward the bathroom door as he heard a thump.  He shrugged it off and walked back into the main room.  His brother was watching Leno on the couch and Maya was sitting on one of the barstools.  He had a feeling Leno had been the only one talking since he’d left.  He looked at Maya.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

She hopped off the stool and collected her purse from the counter.  Michael walked into the kitchen to grab the pad of paper and pen that was by the phone.  He wrote down his cell phone number for LA and wondered if Maya or Matthew would bring up Matthew’s presence.  Could he get out without another scene?

“So,” Matthew called out as Michael started for the door, “can I have the couch then?”

Michael couldn’t stop himself.  His eyes sliced over to Maya.  She had her lips pursed, but she didn’t say anything.  Michael let out a little sigh as he hung his head to the side.  He was going to get yelled at in the cab.

“Yeah, you can stay.”  He turned and faced his brother to point a finger at him.  “But leave him alone, all right?”

Matthew tsked his displeasure, but Michael knew he’d behave.  More or less.  He took Maya gently by the arm to lead her out the front door.  Halfway through he turned back to warn his brother again, but his eyes fell on his bedroom door.  Behind that door was his bedroom, which contained another door leading to his bathroom, in which a fogged up shower door had been the only thing between him and a wet and naked LA.

“Michael?  Are you okay?”

Michael turned his head, a little disoriented.  He recognized his hallway and his fiancée.  He wondered how long he’d been staring.  He shook himself and gave Maya a small smile and laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  It’s just weird is all.”  Michael closed his apartment door and they started for the elevators.  “Luc is in my shower.”

Maya gave him an amused smile with a lifted eyebrow.  Michael realized how that might have sounded.

“Oh, well, I mean.  He’s in my apartment in general, you know?”  He pushed the call button for the elevator.  “I haven’t seen or talked to or heard anything about him in almost eight years.  It’s almost…like seeing a ghost or something.”

Michael laughed to show that he was still normal and LA showing up out of the blue—on the day he got engaged no less—wasn’t really that big of a deal.  They got on the elevator and started down.

“So, you and your brother went to college with him?”

“Yeah.  Luc was my roommate actually.  For three years.  We met the spring semester of our freshman year.”

“Wow.  You must have gotten along well.”

“Well.  You know how it is with guys.  We can cohabitate with each other easier than girls can.”

Maya thought that was a little sexist, but kind of true, so she didn’t bust him for it.  They walked out the front door and stood on the sidewalk, looking for taxies.  Maya wasn’t really sure how to bring up her next question, but she was too curious to be polite about it.

“Um…so.  You didn’t have any problems living with him?”

Michael laughed.  “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh.  I see.  Is it because he’s…um.  Is Luc gay?”

Michael turned to her suddenly.  “Oh, don’t call him that.”

“What?  Gay?”

“No.  Luc.  He hates his name.  Gets all huffy and stops talking to you if you try to call him by name.  Everyone just calls him LA.  And yeah.  He’s gay.  Gay as a bag of Skittles.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Michael raised his hand like he was measuring something to the height of his head.  “Flames up to here.”  A taxi pulled up to the curb.  Michael looked at his hand.  Is that how were you supposed to hail a cab?

“So you didn’t mind rooming with him?”

“Of course not,” Michael replied, opening the car door for her.

Maya slid in, squelching any other questions she might have about their living arrangements.  Apparently Michael didn’t have a problem with it, so was she just being prejudice?  Michael slid in next to her and told the driver where to go.  He put an arm around her shoulders and she raised an arm so that she could lace her fingers with his.  She gnawed on her lip a moment and then had to ask.

“So why do you get to call him Luc?”

She looked at Michael and he had a funny look on his face as he glanced out the window.

“He lost a bet,” he said with a small smile.

Maya frowned a little at that.  Inside jokes.  She didn’t like them.  Even when she was on the inside.  She knew she was being petty.  And there was no reason for it.  LA was an old friend, Michael was clearly happy to see him again, so she should be happy he’s happy.  Plus LA would be gone in three days, so she could be a good sport for at least that long.

They arrived at her apartment building and Maya was a little surprised when Michael asked the driver to wait on them and got out with her.

“You don’t have to come.  It’ll only take me a minute to pack a bag.”

“You said Drew would be home.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you remember when I waited in a taxi for half an hour while you ‘popped in real quick?’”

“Oh, that was one time.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They entered the building and walked up one flight of stairs to her door, which was on the landing.  She opened the door and looked around.  Drew was sitting in front of the TV watching an old Judy Garland movie.  She couldn’t see her face, but she could see the pint of Haagen-Dazs in her hands.

“Oh, no,” she said quietly.

Michael groaned softly, with just a touch of growl to it.  “I’ll go pack your bag,” he said and scurried off for her bedroom.

Maya walked over to her friend, hoping she wouldn’t scare her when she touched her arm.  Drew turned toward her and had wet streaks down her cheeks and tears wavering in her eyes.  Maya kneeled on the floor to be near her.

“Drew!  Are you okay?  What’s wrong?”

Drew sniffed and used her pajama sleeve to wipe her runny nose.  “Gavin doesn’t want to see me anymore!” she wailed.

Maya tried to make a sympathetic face, but she was a little confused.  She patted Drew’s arm comfortingly anyway.  Drew took another bite of her Rocky Road.

“Um.  Didn’t you dump Gavin?  A month ago?”

“Yes!  But I wanted him to pine after me!  I wanted him to miss me!  I wanted him to think about what he’d lost for a little while!  And so after a suitable amount of time for punishment, I called him up.  But he’s dating someone else!  Can you believe it?!”

“Oh, Drew, I…”

She patted Drew’s arm again.  Drew sniffed back what sounded like a lot of snot.  Her eyes focused on Maya’s hand.  She used her spoon to tap the back of her fingers, getting chocolate ice cream on them.

“What is _that_?”

“Oh.”  Maya smiled and took her hand back to look at her ring.  She licked the chocolate off and then smiled at Drew.  “It’s my engagement ring.”

Drew stared at her.

“Michael proposed tonight.”

She smiled happily and looked back up at her friend.  Drew looked like she was being attacked by an oversized, mutant spider.

_“You got engaged?!”_

“Y-yeah.”

“Nooooooooooo!  Michael Ellison, I hate you!”

Maya put a hand to her ear to try to stop the vibrating caused by Drew’s piercing shriek.  Michael had reappeared with a small canvas bag.  Did he not know where her overnight bag was?  She stood up.

“That was awfully fast.”

“Don’t worry.  I got everything you need.  Let’s go.  Later, Drew.”

Michael grabbed Maya by the hand and pulled her toward the door.  Drew leaned over the back of the chair and pointed a threatening spoon at him.

“You can’t have her!  It’s not too late, Maya!  Back out!”

“No.”

Drew’s frown was longer than her face.  Maya didn’t often defy her.

“Okay, fine, but can’t you at least stay with me tonight?!  I need you!”

She made a pitiful face and Maya hesitated as she looked at her friend.  She really did look miserable.

“No, Drew,” Michael said, wrapping a possessive arm around her middle.  “ _I_ need her.”

Maya was a little overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of Michael’s declaration.  It was so strong it even had an effect on Drew; she didn’t renew her insistence that Maya stay.  Michael pulled her out the door.

“You said yes to _that_ ring?!” was the last thing Maya heard.  She just laughed.

She was worried that she would feel a little guilty about leaving Drew by herself the rest of the evening, but she should have known Michael better than that.  They’d been in the cab less than five minutes before she’d not only forgotten Drew but very nearly her own name.  When they got out of the cab, the driver asked if they liked having a third person as a viewer because he could park somewhere.  They thanked him, but said that wouldn’t be necessary.  Since it was so late they were able to check in to the hotel without a wait and soon were being inappropriate in the elevator on the way to the eighth floor.  Michael led her to a room and let them in.  She didn’t even see it for several minutes because she was too involved in kissing Michael.  He was so hot—temperature wise she meant.  He was hot in the attractive way too, but his lips and skin and body were always so warm.  She wondered if he ever noticed it.  He didn’t seem to get as cold as easily as she did, but then again, he could stand hotter weather than she.

She giggled at her own thoughts and had to pull back.  Michael wanted to know what was so funny.  That only made her laugh harder.  She didn’t know why it was so funny.  She shouldn’t have let her mind wander like that, and usually Michael was good enough to prevent that, but she was a little extra giddy tonight.  Now that her face was detached from his, she could look around the room.  She gasped.

“Oh, my gosh!  This is a suite?!”

She clapped her hands and ran around the huge space.  Michael just watched her go.  Apparently it was her first time in a room that wasn’t simply a “standard.”  She was running back and forth from the main room and the bedroom.  That was one of the things Michael loved most about her; that she still had that sweet innocence about the world.  She certainly wasn’t naïve by any means, but she was still surprised and impressed by new things.  She didn’t have the jaded, “been there, seen that,” attitude like a lot of the girls he’d dated in the past had had.

“Well,” he said as she ran past him, “I had to make up for that horrible ring.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned back to him.  “Not at all!  I love this ring.  Besides.”  She walked up to him and took his lapels in her hands.  “I didn’t say yes because I wanted a ring.  I said yes because I want you.”

Michael put a hand to his face and tried to duck away from her.  “That’s cheesy,” he mumbled.

“Aww!  Are you blushing?  Le’me see, le’me see!”

“No, no!”

They laughed together and she chased him around the room.  He led her directly to the bedroom and once they were inside turned around suddenly to grab her.  She squealed as he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed.  He was on her in a second, giving her a long, deep kiss.  He pulled back barely an inch and she took in a deep breath, feeling her chest press into his.  That was the kind of kiss that kept her mind from wandering.  He kissed her lips again.

“I’m sorry, Maya, but I can’t wait.  Can we do the romantic sex later?  I just want to have you now.”

She nodded dumbly.  He slipped off her and rolled her gently to her stomach.  He slowly unzipped her dress, following the trail of skin revealed with his lips.  She shivered under him and tried to discreetly bite the heel of her hand.  He started to pull her dress off and she helped him kick it over her legs and onto the floor.  She turned over to her back and he sat beside her, looking over her body.  She closed her eyes.  It was embarrassing to be looked at like this.  But then again, she had intentionally worn this underwear to be looked at.  She bit her lip when she just barely felt his fingertips on her stomach.

Michael watched his fiancée try not to react to his touch.  He was glad he could do this to her.  That he could make her feel this way.  If she could feel for him even a tenth of what he felt for her, he was sure she could and would be happy.  That’s all he wanted.  He’d spent his entire life gaining prestige and money; it hadn’t taken long to figure out that happiness really was more important than anything.  And that’s what she brought to his life.  He leaned down and kissed her clavicle while hooking his fingers in the silky strings of her bikini underwear.

“Maya.  I have never—”

He paused.  He had been going to say he’d never been this happy before in his life.  But recent events had reminded him that that wouldn’t be an entirely accurate statement.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he said, licking his way to her other collarbone.  She let out a small noise as his hands pushed her panties down.  “Every morning I wake up and I get excited because I get to see you.  Be with you.  Touch you.”  Her body jerked involuntarily as his hand slipped in between her legs.  “I just really want to have that feeling the rest of my life.  You really are the perfect one for me.”

Maya twisted her legs a little bit, helpless against the pleasure he was causing.  She tried to gather her thoughts.

“I thought you didn’t believe in that kind of stuff.”

He pulled himself up to kiss her lips.  “You made me a believer.”

“Oh, gosh,” she responded, blushing at the romance and cheesiness of that statement.  She put the back of her hand to her head.  Her eyes were still closed, but she knew Michael was simply watching her while he touched her.  Why did he like to do that?  What was there to see?  He advanced the attack his hand was making as she arched against him, crying out louder than she’d meant to.  She peeked an eye open to see what the pervert was doing.  He was smiling smugly.  Then he leaned back down to kiss her clavicle.  She wondered why he was so hot for her collarbones.  Then she saw her hand.

“Oh, Michael!  I’m so sorry!”

Michael stopped what he was doing and looked at Maya.  “What?”

“I’m a horrible person!”

Michael felt a funny thump in his chest.  What was going on?  What did she mean?  She hadn’t cheated on him had she?  Lied about something important?

“I really do want a different ring!” she cried.

Michael laughed softly in disbelief.  And then he put a hand to his head and started laughing uncontrollably.  She lightly hit his arm.

“Stop laughing!  I said I was sorry!”

“No, no,” he tried to get his giggling under control.  “You’re just so cute!”  He lay on top of her and kissed her.  He pulled back and looked in her hazel eyes.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

LA walked out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth.  He hadn’t bothered to dry off after getting out of the shower and had left a puddle of water on the bathroom floor.  It would probably dry up before Michael got back home.  No harm, no foul.  And feeling the cool air of the apartment hitting the water on his skin had made him shiver in unpleasant chilliness.  And that was a good thing; it would help him to cool off.  He’d allowed himself to get a little too worked up over Michael.  It was time to start acting like a rational human being again.  Like ignoring the fact that even after seven years he was able to recognize that Michael used different shampoo and soap now by the scent alone.  He’d thought of his obsession with Michael in college as harmless, especially since he’d managed to forget about him after they parted ways.  But now he realized that he’d been harboring that obsession all this time.  No wonder he’d never been able to have a real relationship with anyone.  And now Tris’ impatience with him made a lot more sense.

LA looked around the bedroom.  All the dark wood furniture matched and his bed was made up neatly with a blue and black bedspread.  There was a large mirror across from the bed.  Didn’t Michael know that was bad feng shui?  Apart from the mirror there was nothing else on the walls.  No little knickknacks here or there.  Not even a plant dying in the corner.  The room was strange to him.  It didn’t seem very much like Michael.  The bathroom was even less like him.  His fiancée had obviously had a hand in decorating it.  And stranger still were the two toothbrushes in the toothbrush holder—since Michael had taken his with him.  No wonder he was so touchy about mooches—Matthew had turned into a leech.

LA scanned the room again.  He couldn’t believe it.  There was nothing but a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser.  A small dresser at that.  The door next to the bathroom door must be the closet, and it had to be a large walk-in.  Even in college Michael had had a lot of clothes.  He was sure he had even more now.  LA crouched in front of the dresser and began to rifle through the clothing in the bottom drawer.  This would be where Michael kept his old T-shirts and “project” clothes.  As expected he found several T-shirts and a pair of jeans with paint stains on them.  He dug around on the other side to find the cleaner T-shirts.  He started to pull out a heather grey T-shirt when he spotted a faded blue T-shirt wadded up in the corner.  He picked it up and shook it out.  It was completely full of wrinkles, but appeared to be clean.  He remembered this shirt.  He used to steal it from Michael all the time even though he wore it more than any other shirt he owned at the time.  It had their school’s name and logo on it.  He’d actually thought about “accidentally” packing it with his stuff when they moved out their senior year, but he’d wisely realized he didn’t need to bring any more _baggage_ with him.

LA pressed the shirt to his face and inhaled deeply.  He was disappointed with a musty drawer smell.  Michael obviously hadn’t worn it in years.  He wondered why he’d bothered to keep it.  Maybe he’d forgotten it was even there shoved into the corner like it had been.  He pulled it over his head and then went looking through his own bag for a pair of boxer-briefs.  Once he was dressed and crawling into bed he thought that perhaps it was a little girly to be wearing nothing but a T-shirt and underwear to bed.  But, since his father was dead, he had no one left to have to pretend to be macho for.  He set the alarm on his cell phone and turned off the lamp on the nightstand.  The bedroom door was cracked open and light from the living room spilled inside in a sharp rectangle.  There was also the faint sound of an audience laughing on TV.  The light and noise wouldn’t bother him.  He could sleep through an earthquake.  In fact, if Tris was a reliable source, he _had_ slept through an earthquake.

The real question was whether he could manage to get to sleep in the first place.  It was a firm mattress with soft sheets and pillows that were just the right thickness, but LA felt uncomfortable in it.  And probably not because he was used to sleeping on a futon.  And possibly not even because it was Michael’s bed.  But he couldn’t stop thinking that _she_ had been in this bed.  With him.  He made a face.  Gross.  Not that he was one of those bigoted homosexuals who thought heterosexual relationships were kind of disgusting (though he was), it was kind of unpleasant to know that Michael hadn’t changed the sheets before he left.  Maybe he was still pretty OCD about this kind of thing too and changed his sheets weekly.  That was slightly comforting since it was only Wednesday; they couldn’t be too dirty, right?

LA tossed and turned a little bit.  He wasn’t feeling a bit sleepy, though it did feel nice to be off his feet.  He could still be off his feet if he sat on the bed though.  Maybe he should re-rearrange his equipment.  He grumbled to himself and flopped around until he was on his side.  He settled his head on the pillow—and froze.  He turned his face more toward the pillow.

“Oh, my God,” he moaned.

He turned completely over and buried his face in the pillowcase, nearly suffocating himself as he did so, but he refused to move.  This smelled like Michael.  Not like his soap or his laundry detergent.  It smelled like _Michael_.  LA dug his fingers in the mattress.  Damn him.

The bed shifted on the far side.  LA raised his head and saw a dark figure climbing into the bed.  He couldn’t see clearly because the light in the living room was now off, but it had to be Matthew.  He must have seen LA looking at him.

“That couch is really uncomfortable,” was what he gave in explanation.

“Hn.”  LA settled the side of his face on the pillow and hugged it.  “I thought I was the last person you would ever hop into bed with.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I hopped.  I would describe this more as ‘sliding’ into bed.

LA let out a small laugh.  Then there was quiet in the dark room, though light creeping in from behind the blinds was starting to give form and texture to once shapeless objects.

“Matt?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to you over the last eight years?”

He didn’t answer.  After a long silence, LA assumed he was being ignored.  Then he received a reply.

“I’ll tell you what happened to me if you tell me what happened to you.”

LA turned his back to Matthew.

“That’s what I thought,” the twin murmured.

 

Michael lifted his head up so he could pull the pillow out from under it and slam it down onto his face.  It only made the buzzing of his Blackberry moderately quieter.  It had been going off pretty regularly for quite some time now, and he and Maya had been ignoring it easily.  The third time it had gone off, Michael had sat up to see if he could reach it to turn it off, but it would have required moving away from the warmth and comfort of his new fiancée’s body, so he’d lain back down.  He’d lost count of how many times it had gone off now, but the last few times it had really started to get on his nerves.  He must finally be waking up.

“Blagh,” came a very romantic noise from his sweetie.  “Make it stop.”

Michael pulled the pillow partially off his head and turned more to his side so that he could pull Maya closer.

“If I do that I’ll have to let go of you.”

“Hmm.  Then you better not.”

She turned toward him and they kissed.  Michael wiggled closer and ran his hands down her bare back.  She hummed her pleasure again.  Then his Blackberry let out a sharp squealing sound.  They both started.  Maya was very alarmed, but Michael just grunted and dropped his head onto the mattress.

“What was that?” Maya asked.

“It’s the noise it makes when it’s an emergency.”

“Oh, my gosh.  Do you think it’s bad?”

Michael sat up.  “I work for an ad agency, honey.  How serious do you think it can be?”  He scooted to the end of the bed and leaned over the side, stretching his arm and straining his fingers to reach his pants.  He was going to have to stop throwing clothes around during sex.  It was fun and kind of funny, but this part was ridiculous.  He was reaching so far the covers had slipped off him and he was pointing his butt up toward the ceiling.  Hopefully Maya still had her eyes closed.  With one more extra stretch of his arm he snagged his pants and barely kept from falling to the floor by bracing a hand on the mattress.  He sat up and then flopped back over next to Maya.  She turned toward him and lay her head on his chest and Michael checked the messages on his phone.  He had 37 texts, 22 e-mails, and 15 missed calls.  Most of them were from Luke.  While he was going through them, Luke called him.  He let out a little sigh and decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Michael!  Where the hell are you?!”

“Is that really any way to talk to your boss?” he replied dryly, trailing a finger up Maya’s soft arm.

“Well, that’ll be a moot point if you don’t get here soon.  You’ll be fired.”

“I doubt that.”

“Okay.  Maybe I’m exaggerating.  A teeny bit.  But it’s after eleven!”

“Really?  Is that all?  You shouldn’t be this agitated until after noon.”

“I was _agitated_ at 9:00.  At 10:00 I was calling hospitals and morgues.  And just before you picked up, I was writing a lovely eulogy for you.”

“Oh, yeah?  What’ve you got so far?”

“Um, roses are red, violets are blue, Michael Ellison is dead, but he said that his assistant deserved a raise and a promotion before he croaked.”

“Ha.  Luke, you’re funny.”

Maya bolted upright, jolted out of her warm, fuzzy rapture.  “Is that LA?” she asked.

Michael was a little surprised by her movement.  He rubbed her back.  “No, my assistant.”

Maya tried to disguise her exhalation.  Michael continued to tease his assistant and she had the time to wonder why she was being weird about the arrival of one of her fiancé’s old friends.  Why didn’t she like him?  Well, maybe it was because he didn’t like her.  She wasn’t totally clueless; she’d picked up at least that much.  The real question was why he didn’t like her.  He didn’t even know her.  Maybe it was just as simple as him being gay.  He probably had a crush on Michael when they were in school together.  He might still have it.  Maya knew that as happy as she was with Michael she might still be a little critical of the next woman her ex-boyfriend dated.  She started to feel a little sorry for LA.  Seven and a half years was a long time to be hung up on someone.  And if it was the other way around, she knew she would be rather snippy too.

“Okay, okay,” Michael whined.  “I’ll be there by noon.”

Noon?  Maya wondered what he had planned for the morning.  Surely he could get to work before noon.  She turned to look at the clock on the nightstand.  It was 11:15.

“Oh crap!  Oh holy Cheez-Its!  Ursula is going to kill me!”

Michael was still lying down and put the hand holding his Blackberry under his head.  “You know, I really do know someone who can take of her for you.”

Maya let out a little wistful sigh as she contemplated the thought of a world without Dr. Ursula Zawadzki in it.

“No,” she said, “I need her for a recommendation.”

“Whatever.  I’m sure there are a lot of people who like you.  And she has so many enemies, no one would ever suspect you.”

“Thank you, sweetie, really, but I’ll pass on the hired assassin.”

“Okay.”

Maya started to slide out of bed, holding the sheets tightly to her chest.  Cute little prude.

“Oh, wait,” he called after her and she turned back.  “I’m going to have dinner with Luc tonight.  Will you come?”

Maya tilted her head in confusion.  “With your assistant?”

“No,” Michael laughed.  “My Luc.”

Maya hoped she didn’t make a face, but the possessive reference kind of bothered her.  She shook herself a little.

“Um.  Yeah.  Uh.  But don’t you two want to catch up?”  Maya wasn’t sure if mentioning that was a good idea or not.  She didn’t know if she wanted to sit through a dinner of the two of them showing how much better they knew each other than she and Michael did.  But then again, did she want to leave someone—male or otherwise—who had a thing for her fiancé alone with him?

“No,” Michael replied to her question, and then corrected himself.  “I mean, yes, I do want to catch up with him.  But I want him to know you.  You’re the most important person in my life.  He won’t know me if he doesn’t know you.”

Maya could feel her cheeks grow warm with happiness and a little embarrassment.  That was almost too sweet.  She bit her lower lip lightly as she smiled.  Then she leaned over and kissed his lips.

“Okay.  I’ll come.  Where are you going?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh!  How about if I cook?”

“That sounds great!”  Michael suddenly hopped out of the bed, not concerned a whit about his nudity.  “How about making ceviche with that sweet corn thingie you make?  I’ll pick up the stuff to make mojitos.”

“Michael Ellison!”  Maya threw a pillow after him as he disappeared into the bathroom.  “That’s what you wanted all along!”

His irritating laughter was confirmation of her accusation.

 

LA grunted and sniffed sheets into his nose as he woke up at the sound of his cell phone alarm.  He raised his head to free his air passages of fuzz.  He made whining noises as he turned over to get away from the jangling phone and the bright light streaming in through the eastward facing windows of Michael’s bedroom.  He lay on his back for a moment and then turned his head.  He was alone in the bed.  Not surprising.  Matthew always was an early riser.

LA sat up and put a hand to his head.  It didn’t hurt, he was just tired.  It was still technically 4:30 in the morning for him.  He frowned and considered going back to bed.  That technique had gotten him fired from many a job before.  It never really bothered him because he didn’t care about any job he’d ever had before.  But this job—this is what he wanted, right?  What he’d always wanted to do.  What he’d spent six years studying in school and held two degrees in.  The one thing he’d enjoyed doing and had a true passion for.  The one thing he was willing to spend the rest of the money in his bank account (and borrow some from a couple of friends) so that he could afford to travel all the way across the country to do.  He should be excited.  He should want to go.  But knowing that this was the one and only shot he would ever get at it—maybe he should not go.  Then he’ll never get a taste for it.  Or be disappointed if it turns out to be different from his expectations.  Decisions, decisions.  Well, he’d decided to be a slacker mooch for the last few years now.  Maybe it was time to make a different kind of decision.  Before returning to his life of listless ennui.

He got dressed quickly so he could spend more time checking his equipment.  In theory he was just meeting with the execs to discuss the shoot they would be doing tomorrow, but he knew he should bring his arsenal in case they wanted to do some test shots.  They could technically still fire him if they didn’t like his work.  Once he had everything together, he shouldered his bag and went out to the main room expecting to be razzed.  He didn’t look good in a suit; he looked like a little kid when he wore them.  He also looked a little silly in a dark suit with his bright, white-blonde hair.  He’d considered dyeing it before he came out, but decided against it after remembering it would cost money.

LA put his camera bag on the freestanding kitchen counter and looked around.  The kitchen and living room were technically the same room, so it was easy to tell that Matthew wasn’t here.  Neither was he in the bedroom or bathroom.  And it was only 8:00.  LA had to wonder what time he’d left—he certainly wouldn’t have woken up just because someone moved the bed a little, so it could have been in the middle of the night.  Or maybe he’d just had to leave early.  Was it too much to think he had a job?  LA didn’t know the whole story, but he’d been around enough potheads to recognize one.  No wonder Mike’s girlfriend didn’t know anything about his twin brother—she obviously stayed away from the druggie.  LA crunched hard on the Fruity Pebbles he’d prepared for himself.  No, not “girlfriend.”  She was Michael’s fiancée.

“Gross.”

LA finished his cereal and put the dish in the sink.  He paused to consider washing and putting it up, but there were some remnants of the colorful cereal in it so he could blame Matthew.  He slung his bag over his shoulder and stopped as he noticed the note on the counter.  He picked it up and looked at Mike’s handwriting.  He wouldn’t call it neat by any stretch of the word, but it was legible.  He just said he’d be home around 4:30 and left his cell phone number.  LA stuck the scrap of paper in his pocket and found the set of spare keys in the bowl on the table by the door.  Either Michael had more than one set of spare keys or Matthew had left without the intention of coming back.  LA gave a little shake of his head.  That wouldn’t put Michael into a good mood at all.

 

Michael leaned forward onto his desk, his elbows braced on the surface, his fingers splayed around the sides of his face.  He could feel his jaw starting to go slack; his eyes had partially glazed over long ago.  It was after two o’clock and he’d only been at the office since noon, but it felt like he’d been there for years.  The photographer from the Sunshine shoot was standing in his office—and had been for about forty-five minutes—trying to explain why the proofs weren’t done yet.  Michael had stopped listening 44 minutes ago, so he actually had no idea whether the beret-wearing putz’s excuses were valid or not.  And to make a bad situation even worse, Tom the Weasel had come up with some excuse for barging into his office, and he hadn’t left.  So now he was getting all the details of the shoot and was probably going to take credit for it if it turned out well, or point out how disastrous the shoot had been if it turned out badly.  Treacherous little weasel boy.

“Michael.  Michael!”

Michael snapped out of his haze and looked at Luke.  “Hunh?”

“Do you have any response at all to this?”

He discreetly tried to move his eyes in the photographer’s direction.

“Oh.  Oh, right.  Do you have the film with you?”

The photographer twisted his beret in his sweaty, meaty fingers.  “Yes.  I brought the memory cards and the layout design templates.”

“Okay.  Leave them with me and I’ll take care of it.”

“Um…”

“Michael,” Luke said, “are you sure you have the time to put it together yourself?”

“I’ll make the time.  Thank you,” he said to the photographer.  “Your services are no longer required.”

“But—”

“This way,” Luke said, taking a firm grip on his arm and guiding him to the door.  “Thank you for taking the time to come down here.”

Michael sat back in his chair and held back a sigh.  He didn’t want to be one of those people who sighed constantly when life presented challenges.  He raised his eyes and watched Tom approach his desk.

“I know how busy you are, Michael.  I would love to help you out by finishing the Sunshine project for you.”

 _I just bet you would_ , Michael thought.  Out loud he said, “No thank you, Tom.”  He was too drained to bother with coming up with an excuse.

“But, Michael, you really shouldn’t—”

“No thank you, Tom,” Michael said sharply, his tone matching his look.

Tom gave a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement.  Usually he would poke and prod until he got what he wanted, but he knew when to cut his losses.  He was a successful poacher because he knew when to back off a hunt.  Michael wasn’t one to let what he was really feeling show, so the warning in his mesmerizing blue eyes was not to be ignored.  Tom looked away.  Mesmerizing?  More like nauseating.

“Well, he’s very busy right now Mr. Day.  Maybe I can…”

“Schedule me in?  I don’t think so, boy.”

Michael looked at the door as Keane swished in.  Luke stood in the frame and shrugged apologetically.  Keane sashayed up to his desk, his brown crocodile jacket perfectly matching his alligator boots and belt.

“Hello, Michael.”

“Hello, Keane.”

Keane put his hands on his tiny waist.  “I’m actually very annoyed about yesterday.”

“I know,” Michael said apologetically.  “I’m sorry.  I was having a crap day.”

Keane sat on the edge of his desk.  “I know, I heard.  It’s just a right shame about that cheap ring.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Please, honey, I know everything.”

“Hn.”

“Well, anyway, it really is okay about yesterday.”  Keane smiled and it made Michael shiver.  “I will have retribution.”

Michael clenched his teeth and sat upright.  “Oh, no.  No, no, no.  I have to work a set with you?!”

“Yep!  Starting next Monday morning you will finally be my bitch.”

Michael made a face at him.

“We’ll be working for Vogue.”

“Vogue?  Like, doing a spread for them?”

“Yes.”

“But, I don’t do that sort of thing.  I’m an ad guy.”

“I know.  Which is why they were very surprised when I _requested_ you.”

“You requested me?  Keane, you little—”  Michael bit back his insult.  “I can’t do it.  I don’t have the time to work on another new project right now.”

“It’s okay.  I’ve already delegated one of your other projects to one of your employees.”

Michael’s jaw dropped.  Keane wasn’t even in his department.  How did he have that kind of power?  “Which one?!”

“The sunscreen commercial.  You’re not missing out on anything.  Film advertisement is beneath you.  They’re always so inartistic and…cheap.”

“Keane.  I’d appreciate it if you would not get yourself involved in my—”

“Relax!  This project is better for you.  Yes, it’s a way of paying you back, but this is also better for your career.  I always look after you, don’t I?”

Michael bit his tongue.  He owed a lot of his success to Keane’s mentorship, but they had gotten along so well in the past because he generally let Michael make all his own decisions.

“So, which employee did you give the project to?”

“Oh, some young cute little up-and-coming eager beaver.  Tim. Or Jim.  Or something.”

Michael closed his eyes briefly and then looked directly at Keane.  “Tom?”

“Yes, that’s it.  Tom.”

“Tom?” Michael asked again, indicating the man behind Keane with a hand.

Keane turned to look.  “Oh!  Why, yes.  Him.”

Keane turned back to him with a bright smile.  Over his shoulder Tom was smirking at Michael.  The look on his “boss’s” face was priceless.  He really was having a rough day if he was letting his disgust show this much.  Well, let him grimace all he liked.  He was taking over this project and he was going to use it and every other opportunity he had to advance his career.  He was going to be an executive before long, and then he’d be the one bossing Michael around.  _So go ahead and squirm, Ellison.  Squirm like you do when I hold you down in my mind and—stop!_   Tom shook his head.  He had to stop doing that.

“Thank you for the added responsibilities, Mike.”

“Michael,” his boss practically snarled.

“What?” Tom asked, a little startled.

“My name is Michael.  No one calls me Mike except my little brother.”

“Apologies.”

“Accepted.  Now that you’ve got this added responsibility you better get to work on it.  I want to see the schedule for the filming and editing by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

Michael once again had to hold back his sigh as Tom left the room.  Luke shut the door after him.

“Keane!”

His outburst startled the quasi-man off his desk.

“What?  Oh.  Oh, dear.  Was that the weasel boy?”

Michael slumped back into his chair.  Screw it.  He sighed.

 

LA let his camera hang down from his neck as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt even higher.  He was pissed off.  He knew that even though overtly his appointment this morning was meant to be a simple meet and greet there was a good chance he would be doing some test shots.  But this was ridiculous.  He was doing an entire shoot for them.  So, essentially, he was doing two shoots and getting paid for one.  He was being used.  And he was having to do it in a suit, which had to be one of the most uncomfortable things ever designed by man.  He regularly wore wetsuits on the beach, and even after skidding out on a wave and having that suit shoved up his butt was more comfortable than these hellish contraptions.  As he watched the model get a touch up on her make-up, LA adjusted the fit of the tie he’d moved from his neck to his forehead.  It was a little warm in the studio and he’d started to sweat.  The fans were keeping the model cool and dry, but they were also sucking all the air away from him.

The model adjusted her capris pants and LA glanced around the set.  She was in front of a mostly white backdrop with harsh, bright lights everywhere.  The lighting technician was completely clueless.  In theory an idiot could light a photo shoot for commercial work, but apparently a moron couldn’t.  Commercial print ads.  He’d sunk so low.

“Hey!” the set director practically shouted in his ear as he stomped up to him.  “What are you doing?  That’s not at all what I said to do!”

“What you said to do won’t work.”

“Look.  You’re just an amateur.  I know what I’m doing.  So, just do what I say.”

“You’re wrong.”  The set director looked a little appalled at being rebuked to his face.  Since LA didn’t have to worry about this incident spreading to other agencies and ruining his reputation, he had the luxury of not giving a shit what the set director thought about him.  “The lights will make really bad shadows on her face.  You need to turn one or more off or move them around.”

“You know, there are plenty of unknown, desperate photographers that I can get to replace you.  I don’t need you and your faggy art school ideas.”

LA scratched the side of his face and said, “Will you at least look at the monitor?”

“No!  Just do what I tell you!”

LA half-laughed.  “What?  How old are you?  You won’t even look?”

He was used to being looked down on and talked to like a child.  He just looked so young that often people treated him the way he looked, which usually worked in his favor when he could turn it around on them and make them feel silly for being less mature.  Like now.  The set director worked his jaw, but cleared his throat.

“Fine.   I’ll look.”

“Why bother?  You’ve already decided you won’t like it.”

“You—”

“Hey, this looks great.”

They both turned to see the ad executive they were working for looking at the shots LA had taken on the monitor.  “Ooo.  I love this shot.  It barely needs any touch-ups.”  He looked up at them.  “Whose idea was it to shoot up from this angle?”

“It was mine,” the set director said as he took a step forward.  “I thought the lights were too harsh to shoot from straight on.”

“Good call.  Do you have any ideas about what to do for the winter collection?”

“Um.  Well.  I’ve been bouncing around a few ideas.”  He swallowed uneasily.

“You could add a filter to the lens to soften the image,” LA murmured.

“Oh, yes,” the executive nodded and rubbed his chin.  “That could work.”

“Yes, that was one of the ideas,” the set director said.  He turned to LA.  “Why don’t you take a break?  We’ll discuss what needs to be done and then _we’ll_ tell _you_ what we want.”

LA took his camera off from around his neck and leaned over to stick it in the bag.  “Sounds good to me.  You gentlemen take your time.”

He turned around and walked off the set.  The exterior door led to a side alley that smelled like old garbage and rotting fish.  Delightful.  He leaned against the dirty brick wall and looked up.  All he saw was more building.  The sky wasn’t in his line of view from that angle.  He shook his head.  Was this really the job he’d been wanting for all these years?  He needed something to take the edge off.  Anything would do.  He felt around his pants pockets, hoping something had been left in them from who knows when was the last time he wore these.  He found one of Tris’ off brand cigarettes slightly crumpled in the left pocket.  There was a lighter in the back left pocket—he kept one in every pair of pants and shorts he owned.  LA was breathing in the familiar smelling smoke in a matter of seconds.  He coughed a little on the thick smoke as he breathed it out.  It had been quite a while since he’d had a cigarette.  And almost just as long since he’d had the taste in his mouth.  A lot of his bad habits seemed to disappear whenever he and Tris broke up.  Well, took breaks from each other.  This break was lasting an unusually long time.  And the pungent, bitter taste of the cigarette made him miss his perpetual on-again off-again boyfriend.  Which meant he really needed to stay away from him.

LA pulled out the scrap of paper with Michael’s number on it that he’d rediscovered while searching his pockets.  He pulled out his cell phone and decided to call him.  If he couldn’t talk, he wouldn’t answer.  Michael wasn’t the most sensible person in the world, but he was one of the few people who actually acted upon it when he was struck by some sense.

“Hello?  Luc?  Is this you?”

LA shook his head.  Weirdo.  “Yeah, it’s me.  Are you busy?”

“Nope.  I’m hiding in a closet.”

“A closet, hmm?” LA murmured as he took a drag of the cigarette.  “I’d always thought that’s where you were.”

“Ha, ha.  So, are you done already?”

“No, just on a break.”

“Ah.  So.  Dinner tonight.  We’re on, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”  LA fingered the cigarette and looked at its glowing end.

“I’d thought we stay in.”

LA made a face.  “Are _you_ going to cook?”

“No, Maya is.  She’s really good.”

“Oh.”  LA tried not to let his disappointment show in his voice.  “Um, well, you know.  The suits might ask me to go to dinner or something…”  Like hell they would.  “So, I’ll see if I can make it.”

“Unh-hunh.  And if Maya wasn’t going to be there?”

“I’m sure I’d be free.”

“Oh, come on.  I want you to meet her properly.  Please, Luc.”

LA pulled the phone away from his ear and closed his eyes as he put a hand to his stomach to calm the butterflies.  Ugh.  He put the phone back to his ear.

“Fine.  Whatever.”

“Great!  I should be able to get out of here early.  If I sneak out.  I can be home by 4:30.”

“I’m sure I’ll be back before then.”

“All right.  I’ll see you then.  Bye.”

“Bye.”

LA made another face.  He thought this job was supposed to be a good thing, but so far it was only bringing him misery.  He took a deep drag on the cigarette and let the smoke out slowly.  It just wasn’t doing it for him—he needed something harder.  Where was a free-loading druggie when you needed one?

 

Maya checked the scrawled label on her polypropylene tube and then vortexed the contents gently.  She pulled the standby tube off the probe of the large machine humming loudly in front of her and put on the test sample.  She clicked “run” on the program on the computer attached to the machine and then she sat back and waited for it to do its thing.  As she had feared yesterday she was getting really bad results due to a low number of viable cells.  But, she had to count herself lucky because Ursula had called in sick today.  So, she had been granted a reprieve from having to explain her morning absence—and her bad results.  The techs were taking advantage of the not-so-rare no show status of their boss.  That’s probably what made the job bearable.  Ursula seemed to be sick a lot, or at least to have a lot of doctor’s appointments.  She also claimed to be both seriously Jewish and Christian and therefore took all the holidays.  Mercedes and Jessica were half-heartedly working on their data as they flirted with one of the techs from the adjacent laboratory.  They deserved the break.

Maya saw Donnie peek into her lab from one of the small windows by the door.  She waved him in.  Ursula’s absence also meant that Donnie could visit without them constantly being on the lookout for her.

“Is the boss out?” Donnie asked as he strolled in and hopped onto a wheeled lab chair.  He rolled slowly across the tiled floor and clunked softly into the desk Maya was sitting at.

“Yep.  Coast is clear.  So,” Maya said coyly, “how was your night?”

Donnie raised an eyebrow at her tone.  “Um.  It sucked.”

“Oh, come on.  Dinner with your family isn’t that bad.  Admit it.”

“Alright, fine.  It’s not.  I just think it wouldn’t be quite so annoying if I didn’t have to go so often.”

“Okay.  I’ll give you that.”

Maya smiled at him.  He smiled back.  Then his smile faltered a little as she continued to smile at him.  She tried not to squirm excitedly.  Donnie put out a hand.

“Okay.  So…how was your night?”

“Well…”  Maya whipped off the purple nitrile glove on her left hand.  “Michael proposed!”  She tried not to bounce around too much so that Donnie would be able to see the ring.  She had told the techs first thing in the morning and got her squealing out of her system then.  Donnie wouldn’t stand for squealing.  She waited excitedly for his response.  He just looked at the ring on her finger with a partially curled lip.  He looked up at her.

“Proposed what?” he asked suspiciously.

“Marriage!”

“And…you said yes?”

“Of course!  Oh.  This isn’t the ring.  _This_ is quite a long story.  He got me a ring from _Tiffany’s_.”

“Tiffany’s?!  No way!”

“Yes way!’

“Ah!  Wait!  I will not be your gush about girly things gay best friend!”

“Duh, I know.”  Maya turned back to her machine to swap out samples.  “I see your hard on every time Mercedes bends over.”

Donnie started.  “I do not!”

Maya glanced at him and smiled at his blush.

“You’re so mean.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“So, was last night…bad or something?”

“What do you mean?”

He pointed to the petrified snot on her finger.

“Oh, no.  This happened earlier in the day long before I saw Michael.  I had a _great_ night.  Well, it was a great night, but there was a little bit of downer when Michael’s brother showed up.”

“The stoner one?”

“Yeah.  He only has the one.”

“Seems like it’s two.  Like there’s the one that’s always high, and then the one who can’t seem to keep a job.  Oh wait.  Same person.”

Maya chuckled.  “Amazing how those two things always seem to go together.”

“Unless you’re a rapper.”

Maya conceded that point.  “Oh, and if him showing up after two months on the exact night we get engaged wasn’t strange—or annoying enough—an old friend of Michael’s that he hasn’t seen since college just popped in for a visit.”

“Uh-oh.  Ex-girlfriend?”

“No, a male friend.  But honestly, I think he kind of has a thing for Michael.”

Donnie laughed.  “Really?”

“Yup.  We’re supposed to have dinner with him tonight.”

“Sounds fun,” Donnie said dryly.

“Yeah, right?  You should come.”

“What?”  Donnie pushed against the desk and rolled away from her a little.  “I don’t think so.  Don’t try to set me up with him!”

“Donnie!”  Maya said exasperatedly and clicked the mouse hard to save her file.  “I know you’re not gay, okay?”  She turned to look at him.

Donnie felt a little queasy.  If he didn’t know any better he’d say that look on her face was her way of telling him that she knew he had a crush on her.  Had he been too obvious around her?

“Anyway,” Maya said, looking away and beginning her next run.  “He’s a little…the friend, I mean.  He’s…I think he’s a little bit jealous of me.  And I was reacting to it by behaving badly myself.  It might be good if you’re there because then we’ll both have to behave.  I don’t want things to be tense or awkward for Michael.  He’s happy to see his friend, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“So, why don’t you ask Drew to go?”

“Because I’m trying to diffuse the situation, not add to it.  Michael doesn’t like Drew anymore than I like his brother.  Possibly less.  Though I’d say my reasons are much more legitimate.”

“Well, you know, I don’t think Michael is all that fond of me either.”

Maya smiled.  “That’s because he also knows that you’re not gay.”

Donnie balked at her suggestion.  “No way.  Really?  _Really_?  Mr. Hot Bigshot is jealous of _me_?”

Maya just smiled.  There was no need to positively confirm that Michael was concerned about her relationship with Donnie.  He’d attempted on more than one occasion to learn a little something about her work, but his brain was not wired for science.  Donnie filled a roll in her life that he definitely could not.

Donnie seemed pleased with this revelation.  “Maybe I should come after all.”

“Great.  I’m making ceviche from scratch, so I’m going to need you on chopping detail.  You make such even cubes!”

“That’s all you wanted all along!”

“Ha!”  She felt some vindication in being tricked into the dinner by Michael.

“Fine,” Donnie groused.

“We’ll leave at 5:00 so that we can run by the grocery store before we go to Michael’s.”

“Alright.”

“Hey, Maya?”

Maya and Donnie turned to look at the tech office.  Mercedes was leaning partway out, her breasts on display through her low cut shirt.

“Do you want the data separated into time period or efficacy?”

“Both, actually.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.  Hey, Donnie.”

“Hey, Mercedes.”

The mocha-skinned temptress disappeared back inside the office.  Donnie turned around and could feel himself smiling.  He looked up and saw Maya smirking at him.

“Shut-up.”

 

Michael tapped his toes against the floor of the taxi cab.  He was sitting on the edge of the seat and leaning forward to see out the windows.  The traffic was moving, but slowly.  He was so close to being home; he could probably get out and get there faster by running.  He was in a rush because he didn’t want LA to be stuck outside for too long.  It didn’t even occur to him until he was on his way home that he might be stuck outside his building until he got back.  And on top of that, he couldn’t sneak out of work early and actually had to stay late.  He was about to toss a fifty at the cabbie and hop out when they started moving again.  He grunted and pulled out his cell phone instead.  LA answered on the first ring.

“What up, city slick-aah!”

“Yeah, because San Diego is the out and out wilds.”

“Close to nature, man.”

“Unh-hunh.  Anyway, I’m on my way home now.  I’m sorry I’m late.  And it only just now occurred to me that I didn’t give you any keys!”

“Well that’s because last night your pecker was too busy trying to get into your sweetie’s vajayjay.”

“Never use that word again.”

“Which one?  And anyway, it’s fine.  I just left your door unlocked when I left.”

Michael went quiet.  He knew his building had great security and at least one doorman on duty 24 hours a day, so in theory his stuff should have been safe for a few hours.

“Ha, ha, spaz.  I found a set of spare keys in the bowl by the door.  Just like you.”

Michael felt relieved.  “Oh, good.  So.  I guess that means Matthew didn’t take them.”

“Do you have more than one set?”

“No.”

“Then, no.”

“And he’s not there?”

“He left before I got up.”

Michael dropped his head against the dirty plastic separating him from the cabbie.  “Shit.”

“Don’t worry.  I’m sure he’s…”  LA trailed off.

Michael laughed humorlessly.  “So even you noticed how bad he’s gotten.”  He pulled out his credit card and swiped it through the reader in the back of the cab.

“Well, he wasn’t doing all that great when he dropped out of school.”

“I know.”  His head suddenly throbbed as he took the receipt from the cabbie and stepped out of the car as the doorman opened it for him.

“Are you okay, sir?”

Michael shook his head and the pain dissipated.  “Yes, I’m fine.  Thank you.”

“Thank me for what?” LA asked as the doorman held the front door open for him.

“I wasn’t—”

“Oh, yeah!  Your vet called.”

“My what?”

“Your vet.  You know, about your cat?”

Michael pushed the call button for the elevator.  What was this idiot talking about?

“They said he was ready to be picked up, so I got him for you.”

His stomach dropped as the elevator lurched up.  The combination made him feel truly nauseated for a moment.  The horror of LA’s words was starting to sink in.

“Though I have to admit, Mike.  I never would have predicted you would own a cat.  You surprised me there.  And your vet is sketchy as hell, p.s.  And nowhere near where you live.  Couldn’t you have picked somewhere closer?  And nicer?”

“LA.  Listen carefully and answer this question.”

“Okay.”

“Where is the cat now?”

“Here with me in your apartment.  And he’s not very friendly.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not.  He’s very ornery.”

“Luc!  That’s just the cat that ate my fiancée’s ring!  It’s not mine!”

“Then why did you take it to a vet and not a shelter?”

Michael shoved his key into the lock and threw his front door open.  LA was sitting Indian style on the couch and frowning at his fingernails.  He looked up when Michael came in looking a little frazzled.

“And why did you call when you were almost here?”

“Because I was running late.”

LA looked at the clock on the cable box.  He wasn’t even ten minutes late.

“Oh, God,” Michael breathed, leaning heavily against the closed door.  “That cat is here.”

“Ha, ha.  Relax.  I know it isn’t really yours.”

Michael felt a little hope.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  I mean, I _know_ you, Michael.  And first of all if I really think about it, no change in personality—or girlfriend—would ever make you get a cat.  Secondly there is no litter box or cat food in your apartment.”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief.

“Unfortunately…”

Michael went rigid.

“I didn’t figure all that out until after I’d brought it back.”

“What?!”

LA saw Michael’s eyes widen and quickly unfolded his legs to hop off the couch.  The delay allowed Michael to nearly get a hold of him as he chased him in a circle through the kitchen.

“It’s not my fault!” LA yelped and ducked low to avoid Michael’s death grip.

“Where is it right now?”

“I think it’s under your bed!”

“Luuuuuc!”

“What?”

Michael grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the bedroom.

“Ah!  Too rough!”

Michael shoved a hand onto the back of his shoulder and forced him down onto the floor with him.  They peered under the bed.  In the gloom two orange eyes glowed at them.  Then a menacing growl rolled across the floor toward them.  They both shrank back a little.

“I’ve been calling him Gremlin,” LA informed him.

“Shut-up,” Michael griped.  “Get him out of here.”

“No way.  It’s your bed, your cat.  You get it out.”

“It’s not my cat!  How’d you even get the thing home?  It’s feral!”

“It was in a box when I got there.  All cats growl at the vet!  How would I know?”

“I can’t believe you did this!  You’re so stupid!”

“ _I’m_ stupid?!  Why’d you leave your _real_ information?!”

“Wh—I—”  Michael didn’t have a good answer for that.

After a couple more seconds of watching the growling cat nervously, they both sighed.

“So what are we going to do?” Michael asked.

“Well, the way I see it, we have three options.”

“Lay ‘em on me.”

“Well.  We could somehow try to chase it out from under the bed.  Then chase it out the door, and out the front door.  Then down the hallway and onto the elevator.  We’ll have to keep it on while someone (you) reaches inside to push the button.  Then we’ll have to beat the elevator down the stairs so that we can chase it through the lobby and out the front door.”

“You do know the connotation behind the phrase ‘like herding cats,’ right?”

“Then how’d you catch it in the first place?”

“Desperation.  I couldn’t do it again.  Look at that thing.”

“Grrrraow.”

“Okay,” LA said, sliding back on the wood floor just a bit.  “Option two.  You call animal control and pay to have them capture and take it out of your building, probably making all your neighbors and doormen think you’re a cruel, evil jerk.”

“Okay.  And I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s option three?”

“Buy a litter box and some cat food, and let it stay under your bed.”

“You’re so helpful.”

“Hey, I think option two was rational enough for you.”

“Yeah, but…will they come after hours?  Do they have after hours?”

“Don’t know.  But they might come regardless if you say it has rabies or something.”

“I mean, they come get wild animals out of homes.  Just because it’s a cat doesn’t mean it’s not wild.  And I can’t leave it overnight.  It’ll pee on the floor.  And cat pee smells awful.”

“I remember,” LA said dryly.

Michael let out a small laugh.  “Oh, yeah.  Good times.  How much do you think animal control costs?”

“You wanna try chasing it out?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

The two men slid back and stood up.  They tiptoed around the side of the bed, pawing at each other’s arms in apprehension.  They edged closer to the back corner where the cat was hiding.  Michael stood behind LA.

“You go first.”

“Why me?”

“Cause you brought the thing here.”

“I—”

“Just go on.”

LA let out a little whining sound, but he bent over carefully and peered under the bed.

“Raawwrr!”

“Kyaa!”

Michael sure hoped that girly shout had come from LA, but they both jumped back and away.  LA fell into Michael and they stepped away from the bed clutching at each other for support.

“Holy shit that thing is mean,” LA laughed.  He turned to Michael and had to tilt his head back to see his face.  He had his hands on his chest, and Michael was holding him by the biceps.  LA swallowed with a little difficulty as they found themselves inches apart.  LA’s eyes roamed over Michael’s face, and he felt like he was examining him in the same way.

“Do you smoke?” Michael asked.

LA started, and then pushed away from him.  He created more space between them by taking a couple steps back.  Being closer to the cat was the preferable position at the moment.

“Only when I’m stressed,” he answered tightly.  “And don’t give me that look.”

Michael forced away the annoyed disappointment from his face.  “Don’t smoke in my apartment.”

“I won’t.”

“Why do you even smoke at all?”

“I told you.  I do when I’m stressed.”

“You were stressed in college, but you didn’t smoke then.”

“That’s because I had sex when I was stressed.”

Michael shook his head.  “That’s not it.”

“What?  What are you talking about?”

“That’s not why you smoke.”  Michael felt his face harden as his hands clenched into fists.  “It’s because of Tris, isn’t it?  You smoke because of him.”

“So what if I do?”

“Are you dating him?” Michael demanded, wondering why after all these years he still couldn’t let go of his anger towards that tool.

“What’s it to you if I am?”

“Because!  What he did to you!  How could you possibly date him after that?!”

“No!  Okay?  No, we’re not dating.”  _Currently_ , LA added silently to himself.

They were quiet.  The air was tense.  LA tried to breathe normally, but his chest was a little tight.  He and Michael could argue about anything and still feel like they were having a friendly chitchat.  Just like earlier when they’d been yelling at each other over the cat, there had been no malice or anger or irritation.  It’s just what they did.  But this—this was the one thing that set them seriously at odds.  One Tristan Davies.  Well, this tension wouldn’t do.  But he knew how to clear the air and get Michael’s mind off of Tris.

“So, what are we going to do about the cat?”

 

Maya struggled to turn the key in the lock because of the heavy grocery bags hanging from her wrist.  She couldn’t ask Donnie for help because he was loaded up with twice as many bags.  She may have gone a little overboard with the shopping.  After a couple of failed attempts, she managed to get the door open and stumbled forward since she was off balance.  Donnie followed close behind, grunting as he made his way toward the kitchen counter.  He plopped all the bags on top of the grey granite and let out a “phew.”  Maya set her bags beside his and looked around the empty space.

“Hmm.  I guess we must have beaten them here.”

“Unless they’re in the bedroom,” Donnie said as he put the bag of fresh shrimp into the refrigerator.  “Maybe he’s real competition after all.  You did say he was pretty, didn’t you?”  He grinned at his scowling friend.

“Shush.  Michael?” she called out, not expecting an answer as she set the vegetables to one side of the counter.

“We’re in the bedroom!” her fiancé replied.

Donnie held back a snicker and gave her a look.  She made a face at him and walked toward the bedroom.  She stopped in the bedroom door and Donnie joined her.  They looked down at Michael and LA.  They were on their stomachs, halfway under the bed.  Donnie looked to her for an explanation.  She quirked an eyebrow, just as confused.

“Um, what are you two doing?”

“We’re trying to think of a name for Michael’s cat.”

Maya hadn’t noticed before, but LA’s voice had a kind of raspy quality to it.  Not a sick, dying rasp, but a sexy, throaty timbre.  She was certain she was going to find his voice annoying from now on.  Then his words sunk in.

“Y-You got a cat?!”

“It’s this turd’s fault.”

“Ow!”

Whatever Michael did to LA to draw that shout of pain was hidden from view under the bed.

“What do you think of the name Marshmallow?”

“I told you, no,” Michael said bossily.  “I don’t think he looks toasted.  He just looks like a white and orangey-brownish cat.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen him in the light.  And I wasn’t talking to you.  I was asking Maya for her opinion.  It’ll be her step-cat after all.”

“Step-cat?”

“Chyeah.  I’m the other original adoptee.”

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” Maya asked, confused by the flow of conversation.

“Yes.  What do you think of the name Marshmallow?”

“I’m sorry.  I’m still stuck on—Michael has a cat?”

LA mumbled something, but she couldn’t make it out.  Whatever it was it must not have been nice because LA let out another cry of pain from a mystery retaliation by Michael.  Then they snickered about something.  Maya felt her jaw tighten.  This was ridiculous.  She was talking to two pairs of legs and Donnie was rocking on his heels and looking thoroughly entertained.

“Um,” Maya said, trying not to sound annoyed, “can you two come out?”

“Well, I’m already out,” LA said smarmily.  “Mike?”

“Shut-up, Luc.”

The smaller man sniggered as the larger shimmied his way out from under the bed.

“Sorry about that.  This idiot—” Michael turned around and had a thumb hooked in LA’s direction, but then his eyes flicked to Donnie.  “Oh.  Hi, Donnie.”

Maya noticed his tone went a little flat.  It was so silly that he was jealous of him.  He nudged LA in the leg.

“Come out.  We have company.”

Maya sucked in a sharp breath.  _We?_   Was he implying that LA was a part of the household?  The next two days wouldn’t go by fast enough.  LA got out from under the bed and he and Michael stood up.

“This is Donnie Johnson,” Michael introduced them and LA and Donnie shook hands.  “He works with Maya.  This is my old college roommate, LA O’Sullivan.”

Maya raised her eyebrows at the name; she hadn’t been told LA’s last name yet.  For some reason, it didn’t fit him.

“I’m not old,” LA chided him.  Then he grinned at Donnie.  “Johnson, huh?”

“I was adopted,” Donnie said.

“I actually figured as much.”

Michael elbowed him, but LA had been expecting it, so he warded it off.

“What about you?” Donnie countered.  “You don’t look very Irish to me.  Maybe Scandinavian.  If you were taller.”

Maya could tell that Donnie was pleased he was actually taller than someone in the room.

“Well, this isn’t my natural hair color.  It’s more like my eyebrows.”

Maya tried to imagine what he would look like with a head of jet black hair.  She couldn’t manage it.

“Still doesn’t seem very Irish.”

“I’m Black Irish.  Apparently there were dark-haired natives there or Iberians came over.  Something.  Or it could be because my mom is part Eskimo.  Excuse me.  _Inuit_.”

Michael held back his laugh.  LA and his mother could never agree on how important their ancestral origins were.

“So what does LA stand for?” Maya asked, wondering how bad it could be that he went by his initials and never let anyone call him by his name.

“Liam Aiden.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Maya frowned at him.  Michael was being careful to keep his expression neutral.  He tried very hard to give LA a discreet nudge.

“So,” LA said, trying a smile on Michael’s fiancée, “I hear you’re cooking.  What’s on the menu?”

“Um,” Maya wasn’t ready for the change in topic, but she was willing to go with it.  If LA would play nice, so would she.  “I’m making ceviche.”

“Oo.  Yum.  But I must warn you, I dated a Mexican once, so I know what the real stuff is like.”

“So, do I.  My mother is half Mexican and inherited all of her mother’s recipes.”

“Fantastic.  I can’t wait to try—the Krakowski family traditional ceviche.”

LA smiled at the mismatching name and dish.  Maya could see why Michael would get attached to someone like LA.  He liked cute things.  They all left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen area.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” LA offered politely, hoping Maya would say no.

“Oh, no.  That’s okay.  I brought help.”  She smiled at Donnie.  He made a face back at her.

“Great!” Michael said.  “Then while you two are doing that, LA and I—”

“Ah-ah!  Not you, Michael.  I have a job for you.”

“But—”

“No buts!”

“Unnuh.”

“Well, I guess that leaves me to supervise,” LA smiled.  “A job I will take most seriously as soon as I get back.  I’m going to step outside for a minute.”

“Are you going to smoke?” Michael asked disdainfully.

“You know what, Michael Ellison?  It’s none of your damn business what I’m going to do.”

Maya was shocked by the sudden turn in easy, friendly interaction.  And this hadn’t come out of nowhere.  Something must have happened earlier to make things tense between them.  Even Donnie could tell something was off.

“Luc, wait,” Michael said and stepped forward quickly to grab the shorter man’s shoulder, but he didn’t turn around.  “I’m sorry.  You’re right.  What you do and how you live your life are none of my business.  I just…”  Michael let out a short, harsh laugh.  “I just really hate Tris.”

 _Who the hell is Tris?_ Maya wondered.

“He’s not the same person he was in college.”  LA turned partially to look at Michael and gently removed his hand from his shoulder.  “Just like neither of us are.”

The look in LA’s eyes was similar to sadness, but it held no regret.  Michael didn’t say anything as he walked out of the apartment.  He stared at the closed door for a couple of seconds and then turned toward the kitchen.  Donnie was pretending to fiddle with something on the counter, but Maya didn’t try to disguise that she had been watching them.  Michael smiled at her.

“So, what’s my job?”

Out in the hallway LA took the stairs down rather than waiting on the elevator.  He searched the pockets of the jeans he had changed into when he’d gotten back from the photo shoot.  In the back left pocket was a lighter, but he couldn’t find any cigarettes.  His intention hadn’t been to smoke when he’d said he was stepping out for a moment, but now he kind of wanted to—just to piss Michael off.

LA smiled awkwardly at the doorman as he opened the door for him.  The whole concept of doormen confused him.  If people wanted doors opened for them, they could make them automatic.  And it wasn’t like the doormen were adequately equipped to act as security guards.  LA walked a few feet from the door and leaned against the building.  It was loud and busy out on the street, but there wasn’t anywhere quiet he could go.  He probably should have stayed inside.  But, he was outside now, so he pulled out his phone to make a call.  He pushed the first number of his speed dial (he was so poor he still had an old school phone with actual buttons) and barely had the phone up to his ear before it was answered.

“Hey, baby,” said a familiar voice.

“Hey, Tris.”

“So…how’s the job going?”

“It’s crap.  Just like you said it would be.”

“No… _you_ said it would be crap.  And I said it would be crap if you went into it thinking it would be crap.”

“Well, you were right.”

“Aren’t I always?” Tris laughed, with a sense of irony.  “Where are you?  I can barely hear you.”

“Oh, I’m on the street.  Hang on.”  LA hopped over a small fence enclosing the recessed entrance of the home next door to Michael’s building.  He ducked under a little archway to a side entrance and was surprised by how much the noise was reduced.  “Is that better?”

“Much.  So how was the trip?”

“Three days on a bus.”

“Right.  Are you at least staying some place with running water?”

“Yeah, I uh…”  LA gave a little shake of his head and tried to think.  What was wrong with him?  He was a better liar than this.  “The, uh, people who hired me set me up in a place.”

“Jesus Christ.  You found Ellison.”

LA sighed.  “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Unbelievable.  You’re not just the most masochistic person I know, you’re the most masochistic person on the whole god-damned planet.”

“I know.  Just don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Like hell I won’t!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!  _I’m_ fine.  I promise.  Look, I called because I kinda sorta need to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh, really?  You need a favor.  From _me_.”

“Tris, don’t be like this.”

“Be like what?  You disappear in the middle of the night to do some job you claim you don’t want to do and then you go and look up Michael ‘Douche Bag’ Ellison to spend the night with.  _You_ do _me_ a favor, all right?  If you come home and he’s left _one_ mark on you I’ll—”

“He’s engaged,” LA broke in and Tris stopped talking.  “He’s engaged.  To a woman.”

Tris was silent for a moment.  Then he let out a humorless laugh.  “And that bastard always rants about how _I_ hurt you.  He hurt you ten times as bad.”

“More like a thousand.”

“Why?” Tris demanded harshly.  “Why do you give him that kind of power?”

“He can only hurt me that much because I care about him that much.  That’s just the way it works,” LA said and immediately regretted it.

“I see.  So is that why when I do something you barely feel it?”

“Tris,” LA whispered his lover’s name softly.  He rubbed his forehead.  He was too tired to have this conversation right now.  “Look, I need you to stop by my place and see if I’ve been evicted.  I had to leave some filters and other expensive stuff there.  And my portfolios and albums.  And I guess some clothes are still in there.  It’s not a lot though.”

LA waited tensely and chewed on a thumbnail.  Was Tris going to go with the change in topic?

“Sure.  I’ll stop by.”

“Actually, if I’m not already evicted—you know where the broken window is, right?  Can you just get all my stuff out anyway and store it at your place?  Then I won’t have to deal with seeing the landlord again.”

“No problem.”  He sounded annoyed.  LA didn’t blame him.  “So…after you come and pick up your stuff, where will you go?”

“Um, well, I don’t exactly have any money saved up.  Certainly not enough for a deposit.  But, if I work every night at the bar for a month or two, I should have enough to find another place.  I can just stay at a shelter or something till then.  Or maybe Brenda—”

“Jesus!  Is your pride that strong?!  You won’t even consider living with me again?”

“Well, I didn’t want to invite myself.  And hell, after what happened last time I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome.”

“You’re such an idiot.  You will always be welcome.  I will _always_ take you back…no matter how many times you leave me.  I love you, LA.  I have always loved you.  Since high school.  And I always will love you.  I don’t understand why that means so little to you.”

LA deflated emotionally, spiritually, and physically too as he slumped against the wall and slid down to crouch on the stone ground.  He was such a bad person to make another human being feel like that.  Why had he tried to find Michael?  He knew nothing good would come of it.  Well, maybe some good had come of it.  He’d been able to see him again.  See him happy and in love.  Maybe that was the closure he needed to finally move on.

“Okay, Tris.”

“Okay what?”

“When I come home, I’ll come home to you.”

There was silence, and then a strangled voice asked, “Truly?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, don’t sound so happy about it.”

LA half-laughed.  “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.  If you sounded happy it would make me suspicious.  So, work hard on your job.  And when you come home I’ll have the marriage license waiting.”

Tris laughed and LA rolled his eyes.

“Blow it out your ass, Tris.”

“Ha, ha.  Love you, baby.”

LA hesitated.  And then he said, “Bye,” and hung up.  God, he was an asshole.

He stood up and stuck his phone back in his pocket.  He was in the process of hopping back over the gate when he heard shouting.  Ordinarily he wouldn’t have thought anything of it in New York City, but the voice sounded like Michael.  He could tell it wasn’t Michael, however, so he looked around for the source.  He found it at the entrance to Michael’s building.  The doorman had a very snooty, rich person’s doorman look on his face with his arms crossed over his chest.  He was staring down Matthew who possibly looked a little worse than he had last night.

“I was just here last night!” Matthew shouted indignantly.  “You saw me go in with my brother.  And I know all you doormen look the same, but I know it was you.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” the doorman said, not sounding sorry at all, “but if you don’t have keys and I don’t recognize you, I can’t let you in.”

“You can at least let me buzz his apartment and let him tell you who I am.”

“Sir, we don’t like your type bothering our residents.  That’s why I work here.”

Matthew looked a little surprised by the blunt answer, but he was mostly infuriated.  “You can’t keep me from talking to him!”

LA decided he better intervene before Matthew got physical.  He had a slightly shorter temper than his brother.

“Hey, Matthew,” LA called out, distracting the angry man just enough.

“LA!  Good.  Tell this dickhead who I am.”

LA discretely scratched the side of his head.  Calling the doorman a dickhead would not help his cause.

“This is Matthew Ellison.  He’s Michael Ellison’s brother.”

The doorman blinked blankly at him.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know this gentleman either.”

LA almost laughed.  “But, I just came out.  Like, less than five minutes ago.  And you saw me come in earlier with a set of keys.”

“Do you have them now?”

“Um.  No.”

“Then I can’t let you in.”

LA slapped a hand to his forehead and tried to stay calm.  He hated the east coast.

“This is bullshit!” Matthew barked and stormed off.

LA turned toward him.  “Matt!  I have my cell phone!  We can just call him!”

He kept walking.  LA sighed in annoyance and pulled out his phone.  Michael wasn’t going to be happy about this.

“Sir?”

LA looked up.  The doorman was holding the door open for him.  “You can go in.”

“But…”

“I just wanted him to leave.”

This was a serious doorman.  “He really is Michael’s brother, you know.”

“I know who he is.”

LA raised an eyebrow.  “Does Michael know you keep his brother away?”

“Sir, I am quite certain that this is definitely a case of what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Whoa.  This was a very serious doorman.  LA smiled uncomfortably at him and went inside.  He wondered if he should tell Michael about this.  But then again, he was just a houseguest passing through for a couple of days.  There was no need for him to get involved.  Of course, since he was leaving, he could depart before the really smelly crap hit the fan.  He could tell him on Friday just before he left.

 

Donnie chopped another section of cucumber into even cubes about a centimeter in size.  He added them to a pile of already chopped onion and tomato of the same size.  His hand was starting to cramp a little.  He was going to make Maya run a cell viability test for him on Monday.  Maya was busy working on her corn, and Michael was frowning as he peeled and deveined the fresh shrimp.  Donnie couldn’t tell if he just didn’t like getting dirty in general or he specifically didn’t like slimy things.  But even though he was frowning at his task, he was happily chatting away with Maya.  They were discussing their days and laughing and asking questions of each other.  They were a shining example of a happy couple in love.  Donnie frowned at his knife.  Damn.  He’d been holding out a small hope that he’d be able to convince Maya that Michael didn’t really care about her based on his interaction with her.  But this was obviously a man in love.  Even trying to play on Maya’s insecurities about LA wouldn’t work—despite there actually being something to work with there.  There was obviously a lot of history between the two, and no amount of time or distance had made them forget any of it.  He almost didn’t believe they hadn’t seen each other in nearly eight years.  They were too familiar with each other.  Too comfortable.  If LA had been a woman Donnie wouldn’t have believed for a second that they hadn’t been seeing each other all along.

They all turned toward the door as it opened.  LA strolled in, popping some gum.

“So, what were you doing?” Michael asked patronizingly.

Donnie held his breath.  Were they about to have another scene?

“Making a phone call,” LA replied unctuously.

“To whom?”

“Your mom.”

Michael went rigid.  “Did you really call my mom?”

“No, you freak.”

Donnie realized they had gone back to their easy teasing of each other.  The drama was gone.  So which one was real?  The angst from an old relationship or the simple joy of being around each other again?  Maybe there was bit of each to it, but one had to be stronger than the other.

LA hopped onto one of the bar stools next to Michael and watched him tackle another shrimp.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” he asked Maya.

“Yeah, help me,” Michael said and elbowed the bowl of shrimp closer to LA.

“Michael, no!” Maya scolded him like they were already a married couple of fifteen years.  “Here, I got this ready for you to snack on while we fix everything.”

Maya placed a tray of cheese and crackers and sliced summer sausage in front of LA, but out of Michael’s reach.  LA bobbed his head in impressed approval.  He immediately picked up a cracker and slapped on a piece of white cheddar.  As he was dabbing on some spicy mustard from the bowl centered neatly on the tray he asked, “Are you like, from Alabama or something?”

“No.  Montana.  Why?”

LA squished the mustard into the cheese with a thick slice of meat.  “Just seems like southern hospitality.”

Donnie looked over his shoulder to see Maya’s reaction.  She was smiling like she was pleased with the comparison.  He also caught Michael’s pitiful look at the snack in LA’s hand.  The blond noticed it too with the loaded cracker halfway to his mouth.  Then he rolled his eyes up for a second and sighed in exaggerated annoyance.  He held the cracker out to Michael.  Then, rather than Michael wiping his hands off and taking it himself, he just let LA put it in his mouth for him.  Donnie felt like he shouldn’t think that was weird.  One guy, especially old friends, could do that for another.  He was just reading into it because Maya had been spouting conspiracy theories while they’d been at the grocery store.  LA began to work on a second cracker as Maya continued the conversation.

“I guess it is southern upbringing in a way.  My mother was raised that way.”

“I thought she was Mexican.”

“Half.  My grandfather was a southern gentleman from Georgia.  And she was raised in Georgia.”

“So, how’d you wind up in Montana?”

Michael was thrilled as he listened to Maya and LA carry on a pleasant, normal conversation.  He hadn’t been worried they wouldn’t get along because of the dynamics in their relationships; he’d been worried they wouldn’t get along because LA was unlike anyone else he had ever encountered before in his life.  And he often rubbed people the wrong way.  Of course, that was usually intentional.  If he decided he didn’t like someone, he had no problem letting them know it.  Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, he reached for another cracker.  He gasped in shocked pain as LA slapped his hand away.

“Don’t get shrimp guts on the food!”

“Michael, really,” Maya said in a disapproving tone.  But she smiled and winked at him.

Donnie had gotten past the point where he wanted to gag at their cutesy, loving behavior toward each other.  Now all he could do was shake his head and try not to be a sap and acknowledge how sweet it was.  He started to cut the limes into halves and watched LA fix Michael another cracker.  This time when he put it up to his lips, rather than letting Michael bite it, he shoved the whole thing in.  LA laughed as Michael hacked and coughed and choked on the cracker.  Donnie wanted to laugh too.  He’d never seen Michael not looking like Perfectly Cool Upper West Side Guy.  Maya just seemed concerned and went to get a glass of water.  Michael managed to clear his throat on his own and glared at his friend.

“You jerk.”

Michael reached forward and slid his slimy, shrimp-hands through LA’s hair.  The blond squawked and practically fell off the stool as he tried to get away.

“Augh!  Mike!”

“That is so gross, Michael,” Maya said, but she was holding back laughter.

“Seriously, what the hell?” LA groused.

“I hate that hair,” Michael said, his tone just a touch on the serious side.  “Dye it back and grow it out again.”

LA stopped what he was doing and looked up at Michael.  Donnie couldn’t interpret the look that passed between them.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” LA said and headed for the bedroom, and then presumably to the bathroom.

“Michael!”

Michael shrank a little from his fiancée as she put a hand on her hip.

“What?”

“Bring those shrimp over here.”

Michael obeyed, trying to look abashed.  Donnie thought Maya would respond the way she did to his puppy dog looks: frown and slap him.  But instead she smiled and practically giggled as he hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  Donnie walked over to the counter so that he could get some cheese and crackers, and turn his back on the lovey-dovey couple.  He wondered how much cooking was actually going on over there.  After one particularly sappy declaration of love and loud smacking sound, he rolled his eyes and nearly spit his cracker out.  He shook his head and then started slightly when he saw LA smiling at him.  He had returned from the bathroom with a clean, wet head and was sitting on one of the barstools.  He learned on the counter and spoke in a low voice so that Michael and Maya wouldn’t hear him over their cooing.

“So, which one is it?”

Donnie gave a little shake of his head.  “I don’t understand?”

“Which one are you hot for?  Maya or Michael?”

“Maya of course!”

Donnie tried to bring his voice down and grimaced.  He hadn’t meant to admit to anything ever and LA had tricked it out of him so easily.

“Ah, well, that’s a shame.  I was kind if hoping we might be able to drown our sorrows in each other.”

Donnie smeared some mustard on a cracker and murmured, “Yeah, well, I’m getting to a point where that’s not entirely out of the question.”  He said it in jest, and he really hoped LA would get that.

“That’s not good enough for me,” LA replied.  “I’m through with straight men.”

Donnie raised an eyebrow.  What did _that_ mean?

Half an hour later they all sat down to dinner.  The food was excellent and the mojitos helped everyone relax.  The conversation was mostly dominated by Michael and LA—both of whom were excellent talkers—but the topic was centered on Maya.  They asked her about her childhood and her college life and the work she did for her PhD and her move to New York and her relationship with Michael.  They asked her all kinds of things, and yet, it was still Michael and LA who yapped away.  Barely a word was spoken about their own past.  Maya had tried to get some of the story out of them, but every time she asked them something, it would remind Michael about something involving her and LA would ask questions setting them off on more pointless chatter.  It was almost hypnotic listening to them bounce endlessly off each other.

After dinner, LA volunteered to do the dishes.  He didn’t know why.  He hadn’t been polite or considerate of others’ feelings since his father died.  There was no point to it.  Maybe he just couldn’t take another half hour of listening to how wonderful Maya was.  The really irritating part being that he agreed with that assessment.  She was funny and had lived an interesting life.  He should have known that Michael wouldn’t settle for anything less.  In fact, LA was positive he didn’t consider himself to be “settling” for anything; he felt lucky to have found Maya.  Well, good for him.

Donnie took LA’s lead and insisted he help with the dishes.  Even though he’d done a fair amount of the preparation, he decided he should clean up too.  Mostly because he always felt like the side of coleslaw no one ever asks for when it was just the three of them.  Even in the kitchen LA wouldn’t be close enough to mitigate the third-wheel-ness.  Mainly because Michael and Maya could be in a room full of people and still feel like they were alone together.  Which was what they were doing now: sitting on the couch, touching, smiling, occasionally kissing.

“Gross.”

Donnie started.  Did he say that out loud?

Then LA continued, “Are they always like that?”

“Yes,” Donnie intoned, annoyed.  “It’s like they forget other people have to witness their lovey-dovey-ness.”

“That must get old.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Actually, I think I do.  My friend, Brenda, is always doing the same thing with her honey.  And we’re like, get a room.  And they’re like we have a room—you’re just in it.”

Donnie laughed.  “Sucks to be the single friend.”

“No, it’s still annoying even when you’re not single.  Tris would get so annoyed that he would start doing a lot more than kissing me to get back at them.”

Donnie tried not to smile or imagine exactly what “Tris” would do.

“Ah, the infamous Tris that Michael apparently hates.  Is he your boyfriend?”

“Occasionally.”  LA turned toward Donnie suddenly and grabbed his wrist.  He nearly dropped the plate in his hand.  “I can’t imagine you would, but do not say anything to Michael that might indicate that Tris and I were ever more than just friends.”

LA had spoken in a very low voice and Donnie had barely heard him over the running water in the sink.  He’d caught the gist of the request, and definitely the look in his eyes.  What the hell was the back story on those three?  It had to be soap opera worthy.

Donnie was still reviewing plots from the latest episode of _As the World Turns_ when his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.  LA and Donnie turned to look at the couch.  The two turtledoves apparently hadn’t heard it.  LA raised his hands up; they were covered in suds.  Donnie put down the plate he had been drying and went to answer the door.  He felt a mild sensation of déjà vu as he saw who was on the other side.  Not because he’d experienced this before, but because he felt like he knew the person, though he’d never met him before.  It was a strange sensation to feel like you recognized a stranger.  Was there a French word for that?

“Who are you?” the person on the other side asked with some impertinence.

Donnie was a little miffed.  _He_ was the one on the inside after all.  “Who are _you_?” he replied.

“Matthew.”

That name hadn’t come from the stranger; it had come from behind him.  He turned and saw Michael was already off the couch and crossing the room.  Donnie stepped back to be out of the stranger’s way.  And Michael’s.  He didn’t look happy.  He immediately starting patting the man down and searching his pockets amidst the man’s protests and deterring hands.  Donnie backed up even more to be closer to Maya who had stood up.

“Michael’s brother?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t tell me they were twins.”

“I didn’t know till last night.”  Maya frowned.  “How could you tell?”

Donnie couldn’t answer because Matthew tried and failed to prevent Michael from pulling a plastic baggy out of the inside of his coat pocket.  Matthew let out a short sigh and looked away as Michael let the baggy unroll.  He hit Matthew with the hand that held the bag.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

“What?” Matthew shrugged.  “It’s not like it’s coke or something.  It’s just a little weed.”

“I cannot believe you brought this shit into my home!”

“Lighten up, brother.  It’s not like you’ve never tried it before.”

“Matthew,” Michael growled through clenched teeth.  His anger was starting to override his sense of brotherly devotion.

“It’s mine.”

Michael and Matthew turned toward the kitchen.  LA was drying his hands off and moved to stand next to the end of the counter.  “It’s mine.  I asked him to get it for me.  I didn’t want to travel with any on the bus and it’s not like you can just walk into your local drug store and pick some up.  You have to know somebody.  And, as it turns out, I knew Matthew.”

Maya felt appalled—almost betrayed.  Michael clearly liked LA and was happy to see him again—and she knew this would feel like a betrayal to him.  So it felt like one to her too.  She felt so sorry for Michael.  His friend wasn’t the way he remembered at all.

Michael, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it for a second.  And he gave LA a look to let him know he wasn’t.

“Look, I don’t need your pity bailout,” Matthew half-laughed, but the noise was mostly annoyance.

“I think you do,” LA said quietly.

Michael could feel himself shaking.  His body was actually trembling with rage.  But this fury was not coming from anger; it came from grief.

“Leave, Matthew,” he almost choked on the words.

Matthew stared at him.  Then he blinked.  Then he kind of laughed.  “Come on, Mike.”

“Matthew.  Get out.  Leave now.”

Matthew’s eyes hardened.  “At least look me in the eye when you say it.”

Michael swallowed as he looked at the wood grain of the floor.  The only reason he’d managed to get those words out in the first place was because he hadn’t been looking at his brother.  He heard movement behind him.  Maya.  He took strength from her presence, from his need to protect her.  He looked up and met his brother’s eyes.

“Please leave, Matt.”

Matthew stared at him for a couple of seconds, watching the muscles in his jaw twitch.  He wanted to be angry with him.  He was expecting to feel hurt.  But irritatingly enough, he felt a little pride that his brother had finally stood up to him.  So, he didn’t push him any further.  He gave him a slight nod and turned around to walk out the door.  He paused when he felt something tug on the tail of his shirt where it stuck sloppily out from underneath his worn coat.  Then he felt Michael’s forehead rest against the back of his neck.  Matthew turned his head back just an inch and couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on his lips.

“Which is it, Michael?  You can’t have it both ways.”

Michael didn’t respond.  Neither of them moved.  Donnie and Maya remained silent and unmoving behind them.  Neither of them knew what to do.  Maya felt an almost overwhelming sadness.  What good was she if she couldn’t help someone she loved?  _The_ one she loved.  Maya shook her head slightly as something passed by the corner of her eye.  It was LA.  He’d left the dishes and had gone into the bedroom.  Before she could start to get annoyed that he was simply leaving Michael alone to deal with his brother (of course, not that she wanted _him_ to be the one that could help Michael), he returned with his black bag slung over one shoulder.

“I’ll go with him, Michael,” LA said.

Michael looked up.

“It would be cool to get some night shots of the city.  Matt can show me around.  I’ve never been here before, so it will be good to have someone play tour guide.  You know what my sense of direction is like,” he laughed softly.

Michael focused on this conversation and latched onto it like a lifeline.  “Y-you haven’t been to the city before?”

LA shook his head.

“Then stay through the weekend.  Do the tourist thing.”

“Michael.  I’m 28 years old.  I haven’t been to New York City because I’ve never wanted to.  But I think the lights will give me some interesting shots.”

Michael looked like he was going to say something, but LA walked past him and nudged Matthew.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Matthew obeyed without comment and once the door was shut behind them, Michael let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  He took in a couple deep breaths and turned to Maya.  And saw Donnie standing next to her.  He’d forgotten he was there.  Now he was embarrassed.  Not only for himself, but for Maya’s sake too.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said softly.

Donnie laughed uncomfortably.  “Hey, man, it’s okay.  I’m no stranger to family drama.  Trust me.  Been there, done that, got the blood-stained T-shirt.”

Michael gave him a small smile.  He was a good guy.  He understood why Maya liked him.

“Well,” Donnie continued, “the dishes are mostly done.  So, I’ll just get of your way here.”

Maya almost said thank you, but that would be rude, right?  To thank someone for leaving?  Though really she wanted to thank him for being so remarkably understanding about the situation.  Donnie walked with Maya to the door.  He turned back to her and gave her a smile.

“Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

Maya held back her groan and her expression was half smile, half grimace.  “Oh, shut-up.”

“No really.  I had a good evening.  Thanks for dinner.”

Maya had to smile now.  “Any time.”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Yeah.  Have a good night.”

They hugged briefly and Maya shut the door gently after him.  She turned slowly to look where Michael still stood in the center of the room, alone.  She walked over to him and slid her hands on top of his shoulders.

“Michael, I am so sorry.”

He looked away.  He didn’t want to hear how sorry she was about his messed up, druggie brother.

“I’m so ashamed of the way I’ve acted.”

Michael looked at her, surprise clear on his face.  “What?  What have you done?”

“I didn’t understand what you were going through, what you were struggling with until tonight.  I don’t know what I would do either.  And I don’t know what _I_ can do, but I’m going to help.”  She smiled as brightly at him as she could manage.  “After all, he’s my family now too.  I want to help him.”

Michael felt himself tearing up.  How uncool.  He half-laughed and put his arms around his fiancée.

“I want to help you, too,” she continued.  “Especially after how hard hit you were tonight.  With LA on top of everything else.”

Michael cocked his head to the side.  “What do you mean?  What did Luc do?”

“Well.  He asked Matthew to buy him drugs.  And bring them to your home.”

Michael chuckled softly.  “Those weren’t LA’s drugs.”

“He may not have done drugs in college, but he smokes now.  And a lot of times…”

“I understand.  And I never said that LA never did drugs.  I just said that _those_ weren’t his.  He was covering for Matt.”

“And why would he do that for him?  He doesn’t even like Matthew.”  And then it hit her.  And she didn’t want to share her epiphany because she didn’t want to verify what Michael already knew.  But she said, “He didn’t do it for Matthew.”

Michael laughed softly.  “I guess I am that predictable.”

“But that’s just it!” Maya cried, startling herself as well as Michael.  She slid her hands to his neck and lightly dug her nails into his skin.  “You’re not predictable at all!  You’re so spontaneous!  You decide the morning of to blow off work and go to Canada.  You can redesign your photo shoots on the spur of the moment when they fall apart.  You never eat the same ice cream flavor!  Even Drew thinks so.  Even your co-workers.”  Maya tried to mask her embarrassment by letting out a small laugh.  “It’s why I’m jealous of LA.  Just how well does he know you that an unpredictable person becomes predictable to him?  Ugh.  I am so ridiculously jealous.”

Michael pulled her closer and smiled at her.  “Don’t be, love.  It’s not just me.  Luc is just one of those people who reads people really well.  I mean…do you understand what I mean?  Give him a week and he could probably do the same thing to you.”

Maya made a face.  “Is he going to be here a week?”

“You don’t like him?”

Maya tried to ignore how much that upset him.

“I like him the way you like Donnie.”

“Ha!”  Michael’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at her.  “That’s hardly the same!  Why are you jealous of _him_?  And do I need to point out what word had the emphasis in the preceding sentence?”

“I know, I know.  But he is awfully pretty.”

“He’s gorgeous, but that’s not the point.”

Maya felt her jaw drop and she slapped her fiancé’s shoulder.  “Gorgeous?!  The hell?!”

Michael laughed and Maya frowned at him.  He leaned forward and kissed her.  She put her arms completely around his neck and kissed him back.  His arms tightened again, bringing their bodies together as their lips opened to each other.  Maya hummed softly and felt the sudden current that sparked through their bodies.  Michael’s hands slid down.  Maya pulled back just a little to look in his eyes.

“Are you sure?  Matthew…”

“Luc will take care of him.”

He kissed her again and started to back up toward his bedroom.

 

Four blocks away from Michael’s apartment, LA had followed Matthew down the smelly alley beside an underground parking garage entrance.  He sat down on some dirty boxes and watched Matthew pull out the stash of weed he’d somehow sneaked back from Michael and some rolling papers.

“You know I’m not going to show you around the city, right?” Matthew asked as he placed a fair amount of dried cannabis on the thin white paper in his hand.

“I know.  And I also knew you were going to roll a joint.”  Matthew rolled the paper over the weed and licked one side to seal it in place.  “And I could really use a hit.  Been needing it all damn day.”

Matthew put the joint between his lips and began to search through his pockets.  LA pulled a lighter out of his back pocket.  Matt leaned forward and let LA light it for him.  He looked over the flame into LA’s eyes as he waited for the end to catch.  When it did he took a deep drag and held his breath as he leaned back against the wall.  He exhaled very slowly, already feeling the effects of the drugs.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked LA.

“I—”

“No, I mean, why are you doing this to yourself?  Actually, no.  What I mean is, are you _already_ high?  Why are you just taking this?”

LA’s eyes flicked over his face for a second.  Then he sighed and held out his hand for the joint.  “Because I have to.”  Matthew took another deep drag and handed off the joint.  “I’d already made up my mind.  I really did only look him up so that I could spend three nights on his couch.  I just thought it would be fun—interesting—to see him again.  I mean, we didn’t part on bad terms.”

LA put the wet end of the joint to his lips and started to inhale.  He coughed on the sweet smoke not only because it had been a while since he’d breathed it in, but Matthew barked out, “Didn’t part on bad terms?!  The last day you saw each other was the last day you spoke to each other.  Not a phone call, not an e-mail, nothing.  You just cut each other off.”  LA took another drag, this time able to make it deep and hold it until it started to burn.  He kept his eyes on Matthew’s rare emotional expression.  “Do you two not remember that I was _there_?  I saw what kind of terms you two parted on.”  Matthew took the joint back.  “Even if you two didn’t,” he said softly.

LA let the smoke in his lungs out very slowly, feeling his brain start to soften.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Matthew asked around the joint.

“Nah.  Just masochistic.”

 

Michael gasped and fell onto his back, panting hard.  Maya was in a similar condition beside him.  He was still hot, but his body shivered as the air began to cool the sweat on his body.  He grabbed onto the wadded up sheet at the foot of the bed with his toes and pulled it up until he could reach it with his hand.  He haphazardly tossed it over Maya’s body, only half-covering himself.  She rolled to her side and wrapped an arm across his chest as her body molded itself to his.  Suddenly, he didn’t need the sheet anymore.  Finally he took a deep breath and held it for five seconds, and then he let it out slowly.  His breathing was under control again.  He tilted his head to rest it against Maya’s hair.  He didn’t know exactly how long it had been since the others had left, but he was pretty sure it had been at least an hour.  And despite Maya’s admirable efforts to keep his mind preoccupied, he could now feel his brain whirring…but he couldn’t form any thoughts.  All he knew was that he didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Hey,” he said softly.  “Spend the night.”

Maya kissed his cheek.  “There is nothing I would like more.  But I have no clothes here and I can _not_ be late to work tomorrow.  And LA will be coming back eventually…I would feel weird if I stayed here.  Plus, doesn’t he technically have the bed?”

Michael chuckled.  “I doubt he’d want to use it now.”

Maya smiled.  “Well, then you better change the sheets.”

“Or we put him on the couch.  And close the door.  And I’m not asking you to stay because I want sex.  Not that I’d say no, of course.  But…I don’t want to be alone.”

Maya hugged him tightly.  “Honey, I’m sorry.  I understand, I do.  But I really need to stay at my place.  Why don’t you come with me to my place?”

Michael seriously considered it for about three seconds, but he didn’t want to deal with Drew tonight.  “I don’t remember if LA took the keys with him when he left.  I should wait for him.”

“You could always check the bowl by the door to see if he took them.”

“Yeah…”

“But you don’t want to see Drew.”

Michael winced.  Would she be angry?

“And I suspect you do want to see LA.”

Michael went with that excuse.  “Well, I’ll be at work all day tomorrow.  And he’s leaving Saturday.  Tonight and tomorrow night are really all the time I have with him.”

“I understand.  But don’t you boys stay up too late goofing off tonight,” she teasingly admonished him.  “You both have work tomorrow bright and early.”

“Yeah.”  The word “bright” triggered a memory.  “Oh, shit!”

Maya sat part way up and looked him.  “What is it?”

“Oh, God.”  Michael closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead as he half-laughed, half-whimpered.  “The Sunshine commercial.”

“The one you worked on yesterday?”

“Yeah.  I’ve got to redo the damn prints because the photographer screwed them up.  And I’ve got to do it by 9:00am tomorrow.”

“Aw,” Maya rubbed his chest.  “Sorry, sweetie.”

“Yeah.  I guess you going home alone is the best thing after all.”

Maya pecked his lips and he opened his eyes.  “Well, good luck with that.”

“Thanks.”

“I think I’ll hop in the shower before I leave though.”

“Okay.”  He smiled.  “Maybe I’ll join you.”

She gave him a smile in return that made him swallow and be thankful that the sheet was at least covering his lower half.

“I hope so,” she murmured.  Then she slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom.  Well.  What a difference being someone’s fiancée made.  He could only see just a touch of awkward embarrassment at her own boldness.  She certainly had changed from the woman he’d met two years ago who wouldn’t let them have sex with the lights on.  Now she was starting to branch out to sex in non-conventional locales.  And according to her definition, anything other than a bed was a non-traditional locale.  That was the only thing about her he would change.  But, she was so perfect in every other way that he could live without spontaneously having sex behind the wardrobe racks at a photo shoot.  He wondered if LA would have been able to predict that one.  He smiled to himself.  Probably.

Michael turned and put his feet on the floor.  He stretched his arms over his head and contemplated what greeting in the shower would get the loudest squeal out of his beloved.  Then he spotted the T-shirt on top of LA’s bag.

“Is that…?”

Michael walked over to the bag and bent over to pick up the T-shirt.  He shook it out and held it up.  It was full of wrinkles after being kept scrunched up in the corner of a bottom drawer for the three years he’d lived in this apartment.  How did LA even find it?  Had he gone looking for it?  Michael brought the shirt to his face and inhaled.  It mostly still smelled like musty drawer.  But after two more nights of him sleeping in it, it would probably smell like LA.

Michael laughed softly as he clutched the shirt in his hands and sat back down on the bed.  And what would he do with a T-shirt that smelled like LA?  Michael rubbed his fingers over the soft, worn cotton.

“Hey, sweetie.”

Michael looked up as Maya came out of the steamy bathroom in a towel, using a second one to dry her hair.

“Oh.  Are you done already?”

Her smile was a little confused.  “I was in there for at least twenty minutes, but you never came.”

“Oh.  Really?  I guess, I just started thinking…and lost track of time.”

Maya smiled sympathetically.  “About Matthew?”

Michael swallowed.  “Yeah.”  That was the first time he’d ever lied to Maya.

“Don’t worry.  We’ll figure something out.  I promise.”

He smiled gratefully at her.  “Thank you.”

Maya quickly got dressed and Michael just watched her.  When she was ready to go, he realized he should have been getting dressed himself.

“Oh.  Hang on.  I’ll stay with you while you wait for a cab.”  He started to look for his underwear.  Maya stopped him by putting her hands on his shoulders.

“It’s okay.  The doorman will get me one.  I’ll be fine.  Besides.  You’ve got to get started on your project.”

Michael frowned.  “Oh, yeah.”  He’d already forgotten about it.  He shook his head and cupped Maya’s face with his hands.  “Thank you.  For cooking dinner tonight.  And for getting to know Luc.”

“Well, it seems like he knows more about me than I do about him.  You two are a like a couple of teenage girls with all that gabbing!”

Michael laughed.  “Thanks.”  He kissed her lips.  “Really.  Thank you.  For everything.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And this weekend we can call our parents and tell them the good news.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun.  Yours first.”

“Oh, definitely mine first.”

They grinned at each other.  Michael walked her to the front door even though he was still stark naked.  It was his home after all.  He also knew he was going to have to call his mother before they did the joint call to the parents to prepare his mother.  He needed to warn her not to stay anything weird or stupid to Maya.  He kissed his fiancée goodnight and then locked the door.  He made a face as he remembered the Sunshine project.  He wasn’t getting paid enough for this project.  He was going to negotiate an outrageous commission for the Vogue spread he would be doing with Keane.

After taking a quick shower and putting on some underwear and a Hanes undershirt, Michael sat down at his computer, which was partially hidden behind his entertainment cabinet.  He worked for about two and half hours, not at all satisfied with how his progress was going.  He glanced at the clock.  It was one in the morning.  LA wasn’t back yet.  Michael rubbed his eyes.  He wasn’t thinking very well.  He needed to get some sleep.  He wouldn’t be happy about waking up extra early to finish the project, but he couldn’t do anymore in the state he was in.  He put the computer in hibernation mode and turned out all the lights.  He flopped onto his bed and fiddled with the alarm so that it would go off at four o’clock.  He reached out one more time to turn off the bedside lamp, and then he was out.

When Michael woke up, it wasn’t because the alarm had gone off.  The clock said it was only a little after three, and the reason he had woken up was because of the two tall glasses of water he’d had while working on the Sunshine campaign.  He groaned softly and pushed himself off the bed, trying not to disturb his bladder too much.  He didn’t bother with a light in the bathroom and was stumbling back toward the bed when he wondered if LA had made it back yet.  Quite possibly he’d gone out clubbing and a lot of New York City clubs didn’t even close until four.  He cracked opened his bedroom door to see if his friend was asleep on the couch.  He was on the couch, but he should have known he wouldn’t be sleeping.  He was sitting Indian style on the middle cushion and had a notebook computer in his lap.  It looked expensive.  No wonder he couldn’t afford a plane ticket out here.  He probably spent all his money on his equipment and lived in squalor.

Michael opened the door all the way and leaned on the frame.  “Still suffering from insomnia I see.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I _suffer_ from it.  It’s useful sometimes.”

“Hmm.”

Michael pushed off the doorjamb with his shoulder and moved to sit next to LA on the couch.

“And I don’t really think it’s insomnia.  I sleep every night, and usually get the same amount every night.  And I feel fine.  I just think I need less sleep than other people.”

“Just another thing that makes you special.”

“Hey.  _Unique_.  We agreed to use the word unique.”

“Oh, that’s right.  I forgot.  So, what are you working on?”

“The project for tomorrow.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, really, I can’t.  You’re competition and I signed a non-disclosure and everything.”

“Oh, right.”

Michael leaned over slightly to peek.  LA moved the laptop away.

“Hey, hey!  Knock that off!”

Michael smiled and whipped out a hand to grab it, but a menacing yowling sound stopped him in mid-reach.

“What the hell is that?!”

“The cat.”

“Oh, my God!  I completely forgot about that thing.  Where is it?”

“Sitting next to my thigh.  It came out about an hour after I got back and lay down beside me.  I’ve been petrified to move ever since.”

“Oh, geez.  That thing is totally going to piss on my floors somewhere.”

“Probably.”

Michael dropped his head on the back of the couch and turned it to the right, seeking LA’s shoulder to rest on.  LA continued to work quietly for a few more minutes, and then he gently shrugged his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep here.”

“I’m not.”  Michael was, in fact, wide awake.  “Do you know where Matthew is?”

“No.  After we went outside we smoked a joint and then he left.  I went to Times Square to take some photographs.  I thought I was getting some amazing shots, but when I got back and looked at them they were complete crap.”  LA laughed softly.  “I was so high.  It shows in the pictures.”

Michael was quiet for a few moments.  Then he asked, “Since when do you do drugs?”

“When I’m depressed.”

Michael pursed his lips together.  “So, you smoke when you’re stressed and get high when you’re depressed.  Are you stressed and depressed because of your life or because of me?”

“Ironically, it was you that made me realize it’s my life.  Seeing you again reminded me of how I felt in college.”

Michael felt his entire body tense from scalp to toes.

“My photography was everything.”

Michael relaxed and breathed again.  “Oh.”

“And you were there driving me, encouraging me…inspiring me.  Without you I’ve let it fall by the wayside.  I stopped really trying after so many rejections.  I let my passion go and didn’t even realize I had until I got here and heard you say how you’d always known I would make it as a photographer.  It made me realize how stupid I’d been for listening to other people when they told me that I couldn’t do it and I should just let it go.  It made me realize that I’m not really happy in San Diego.  I needed your disappointment.”

“Disappointment?”

“Yes.  You were always the one who got annoyed with me when I did things half-assed and didn’t 100% follow through with my goals.  Everyone else was disappointed with me for not growing up, letting my hobby be a hobby, and getting a real job.  I mean my dad…”

LA trailed off.  Michael tilted his head up just a little bit though all he could see was the underside of LA’s jaw.  He knew that LA had a very bad relationship with his father.  LA let out a bitter laugh.

“It somehow got _worse_ from him _after_ he died.”

Michael lifted his head up completely.  “Your father died?”

LA nodded.  “Four years ago.”

“Oh.”  Michael looked at his hands.  “I…I mean.  I know I’m in no position …I would have liked to have known.  To have been there.”  Michael laughed softly.  “Though he probably wouldn’t have wanted me to be there.”

“Well, it didn’t really matter much what he wanted.  He was dead.  My mother did ask about you.”

“Really?  What’d you say?”

“The truth.  I didn’t know where you were.”

Michael put his head back down on the couch, but didn’t lean back toward LA.

“So, how did Tris know where I was?”

“Annie Schwenck.”

“Who?”

“Tris kept in touch with his friend Bradford, whose little sister played French horn in the band and sat next to Kevin Beals or Bulls or whatever his name is who dated and broke up with but stayed friends with Annie Schwenck who was roommates with Jessica who still talks to Troy Adler who I believe you still keep in touch with.”

“Ah.”

“That’s the connection between your group of friends and Tris’.  Annie Schwenck dated one and roomed with another.”

“Gotcha.”  Michael scoffed to himself.  “I can’t believe Tris even told you.  He hates me.”

“Yeah, he does.  He even hates you more than you hate him.”

“So, then why did he tell you?”

“It was a test.”

“Did you pass or fail?”

“I don’t know yet.”

LA turned his head, and he was sitting low enough on the couch that the small movement put their faces centimeters apart.  LA could feel his heart accelerate a little.  He stared into Michael’s familiar eyes and breathed in his scent that hadn’t changed in eight years.

 _Don’t do anything stupid_ , he warned himself.

Michael’s eyes shifted a little as he tried to focus on LA’s face.

“Come to bed,” he whispered softly.

LA stopped breathing.  And then it came out in a rush as, “What?”

“You’ve got work tomorrow.  You should get some sleep.”

“Oh.”  LA tried not to let it show that his breathing was uneven.  “Um.  It’s okay.  The shoot doesn’t even start until 1:00.  I was told to be there at noon to set up.  And I really need to get ready for it.”  He patted his computer lovingly.  “I was going to work on it after dinner, but—”

“But instead you went out and got stoned with my brother.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.”  Michael sat up.  “Work hard and we’ll go out tomorrow.  Just the two of us.”  He patted LA’s thigh and another low, baleful growl came from the other side of LA’s body.

“Heh.  My guard cat.”

“Yeah, it’ll probably rip your head off, too.”

“Probably.  ‘Night, Michael.”

“Goodnight, Luc.”

 

Maya shifted her chunks of mango around on top of her mostly uneaten cup of yogurt.  She and Drew were at Berrywild on Lexington in uptown.  Usually the Kinda Icy variety with its lower calorie count and a good serving of fruit was enough to make her feel like she was really indulging herself.  But today she was feeling bad enough that it wasn’t helping in the slightest.  She needed real ice cream.  With real sugar and real fat and a whole lot of real chocolate.  Maybe some caramel…

“Ugh.  Are you still wearing that thing?  When are you going to get the real ring?”

Maya pushed all the mango to one side and began to slowly migrate it over to the other side, one piece at a time.  “They said it would probably take a week.”

“Well it’s been like twice that already!”

Maya frowned at her yogurt.  “It’s been three days, Drew.”

“Hnn.  I guess.  Time seems to be moving faster because you’re just going to move out and abandon me any day now.”

“Yep.”

Drew frowned.  Maya apparently wasn’t in a mood to indulge her today.  “Okay.  Seriously.  This has got to stop.  Why are you moping?  You were the happiest I’ve ever seen you in my life the night Michael proposed.  What’s got you down?  The slightly not right in the head future in-laws?  The pothead brother?  The longer commute you’ll have from your fiancé’s swanky uptown apartment?”

Maya felt her face pinch up.  If she had any legitimate excuse at all to be in a bad mood, any one of those would do.  But that’s not why she was unhappy.  And the cause of her unhappiness was ridiculous.

Drew strummed her nails on the table and chewed on a bit of frozen yogurt.  It really hurt one of her teeth.  She might have a cavity.  She swallowed and took in a breath.  Did she dare ask?  She’d only been told a snippet or two about her dinner with Michael, Donnie, and Michael’s friend last night.  It had been interrupted by Matthew and Michael had gotten upset, but that wasn’t what was bothering Maya.  She’d been able to identify the source simply by the inflection in her voice when she’d very briefly talked about it.  Drew decided she needed to know more if she was going to be helpful.

“Okay.  So, tell me about this drama again.  His ex-girlfriend is visiting?”  Drew couldn’t remember if Maya had used any pronouns when talking about the person, but what else could have her crazy, mad jealous like this?

Maya sighed and sat back in her chair, leaving the spoon stuck in the middle of her field of divided mango pieces.  She was about to get teased and she knew it.

“No, nothing like that.  It’s just an old college roommate.”

“Um, yeah, so?  A roommate in college could be a girl.”

“Well, yes, but remember?  I met _him_ last night.”

“I didn’t know it was a guy.  His name didn’t sound very guy-like.  What was it again?”

“LA,” Maya’s teeth grated slightly on his name.

“Oh, right.  What’s it stand for?”

“No clue.”

“Okay.”  Drew took a bite of her yogurt and let it melt in her mouth before swallowing it down.  “So, why are you being so twitchy about this?”

“Twitchy?” Maya looked up.

“Every time you talk about him your face twitches like you’re trying not to make a face, which means you want to.  So…why do you want to?”

“He doesn’t like me.  So, I’m not very fond of him either.  And he’s kind of annoying, but I don’t want to upset Michael, so I hide it from him.  I guess I just keep doing it out of habit.”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of hiding it.”

Maya flinched.  Did Michael notice?

“But, why doesn’t he like you?  Did something happen?  I can’t imagine he just _instantly_ disliked you.”

Maya sighed.  Drew would probably find out one way or another.  And at least she had someone who would probably take her side in all this to tell it to.

“You see, the thing is, LA’s gay.  And he kind of had a thing for Michael in college.  I think he still does.  And I’m—”

“You’re the bitch that stole him away,” Drew grinned.

“I didn’t _steal_ him away.  They weren’t together.  They were just roommates.”

Drew tried to keep the amusement off her face.  “You sure about that?”

Maya gave her a look.

Drew shrugged.  “You’ve seen him flirt with men.”

“He’s joking, Drew.”

“There’s truth in every joke, babe, that’s what makes them funny.”

Maya groaned softly and let her eyes roll nearly to the back of her head before turning a bemused look on her friend.  “Do you really think Michael is gay?”

“Gay?  No way.  Bisexual…” she trailed off softly.  Maya gave her a pointed glare and Drew shrugged again.  “College is where you experiment.”

“Are you seriously being serious?”

Drew thought about it seriously for a moment.  Finally she responded, “Not really.  I think Michael is mostly talk.  He’s just successful in life because he has a way of making people believe him without having to actually follow through on any of his threats or promises.”

Maya’s sharp intake of breath was lost on Drew.  Was Michael’s proposal a way to get her to be happy with the way things were for another year or two, ie: not married?  But it wasn’t like she had ever brought it up with him before.  Not really.  They’d discussed it a couple of times, but she had been genuinely surprised when Michael had proposed.  Was he striking preemptively?  Maya shook her head.  Ridiculous.  Hanging around with Drew always turned her into a drama queen.  She knew how Michael felt about her, and that he wanted to marry her.

Drew looked at Maya; she seemed a little upset about something.  Drew had no clue what she’d said to upset her, but she had little doubt it _was_ something she’d said.  So, she went with the last sentence she’d spoken.  Something about not following through with promises…?

“Like with, you know, the guy at his gym?”

Maya tilted her head in thought, and then she laughed.  Then she put on a sympathetic face.  “Oh, yeah.  Poor Taylor.”

“It really is a sad case.  Straight men can be so cruel.  _I_ would know.  Oh!  So, you think this CA guy—”

“LA.”

“Whatever.  You think he’s another Taylor?  Maybe he thinks Michael likes him.  Or used to.  And that’s why he doesn’t like you…because he’s jealous of you?”

“That’s possible,” Maya mused, finally taking a bite of her yogurt.  It was a little soupy, but it tasted good now.  “But I don’t think it’s like that.  I think it’s more like they used to be really good friends, and LA kept his feelings to himself.  So now maybe he regrets that.  Or because of it he could never get over his feelings and wonderings or ‘what ifs.’  Or maybe he’s kind of jealous of women in general.”

“Hmm.  That’s sad.  I’m trying to hate him for you here, Mai…but I’m starting to feel sorry for him now.”

“So am I,” Maya frowned around her spoon.


End file.
